One Sweet Dream
by yellowchikadee
Summary: When a member of Fairy Tail finds a man among the wreckage of Nirvana, she must make the impossible choice to turn the dark wizard in to the Magic Council, or bring him back to her own guild. What role could Midnight of the Oracion Seis possibly play in Fairy tail, and how will his presence affect the members of Team Derelict Heart? Time will tell what becomes of Macbeth's prayer.
1. A Man Among the Rubble

**Chapter 1: A Man Among the Rubble**

 **The Fairy Tail Guild Hall:**

Master Makarov's eyes were unyielding. It was clear that he'd made a decision—and only an idiot would challenge it. Luckily, Fairy Tail was known for being full of idiots.

"But Master, the Magic Council is already there. I don't understand why _we_ have to go clean up the mess!"

The speaker was a young woman with cream colored hair and pink eyes. She slammed her palms down on the counter in front of the master. Makarov didn't even flinch, he sat still and serious, arms folded and legs crossed.

"It's simple, Dreamer," Makarov said calmly. "Fairy Tail already has a bad reputation with the Magic Council, and after this ordeal with Oracion Seis, it's more important than ever to make a good impression."

"But it's redundant!" The girl cried out in frustration. "Does it really make sense to send a team that far just to clean up Nirvana's wreckage? It's not like the local townspeople and Magic Council aren't already working on it. And you just want to send us so that we'll look responsible to the Council? They'll be long gone before we even get there, so they won't even see this 'good deed' thing!"

"That's enough, Dreamer," Makarov said darkly. "I'm sending your team to the site of the battle with Oracion Seis."

 _This girl is Dreamer Cumula, a member of Team Derelict Heart—one of the many teams of wizards in the Fairy Tail guild. The other two members of her team are on her left and right, Jezran (fondly referred to as 'Pops,') and Piper._

A hand rested on Dreamer's shoulder. "Drop it, Dreamy." Piper looked at her through understanding but firm green eyes. He was a built man with sky blue hair that covered only half of a shaved head. "It ain't that bad—just busy work. Sides, me and Pops'll be with ya."

Dreamer chewed her lip, still not willing to back down. "But Master, I had plans with Syllestra—"

"Mirajane will take care of that," he cut her off. His eyes dared her to try something else. He was prepared for every way she might try to weasel out of this.

Piper's hands tightened on her shoulder, both comforting and warning. Dreamer groaned. "…Why _us_?" Tasks like this were usually left to new guild recruits or even hired help. It wasn't like the master to send a valuable combat team to go put buildings back together.

A black shadow crossed Makarov's face. "You know exactly why, Dreamer. Had you agreed to join the coalition and go with Natsu and the others to fight the Oracion Seis, then such needless destruction and pain might have been avoided. Now, as punishment for your inaction, you will clean up the wreckage."

Dreamer blinked in disbelief. "M-master, you know I couldn't…"

"Enough of your excuses! Freed, are you ready?"

Freed Justine stood up from a nearby table at once and joined them. He bowed politely to Makarov and the others. "Yes, Master."

"Oh dear me, what does young Freed have to do with this, dear me?" Jezran, a dapper old man with a handlebar mustache, raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Freed is going to teleport you there, to save on time," Makarov said, finally relaxing slightly.

"He can do that?!"

"I will do my best."

"Master, if he uses a rule to transport us there, we won't be able to get back!"

Makarov smiled innocently. "You're an intelligent girl, I'm sure you'll figure something out. Besides, Natsu and the others haven't left yet. Maybe you'll be able to catch a ride with them."

"You're tormenting me on purpose!" Dreamer dramatically slammed her head on the counter.

"Dear me, dear me," Jezran and Piper stroked her back while Freed finished writing the code he'd been working on.

"Any wizard located within this area will be transported safely to these coordinates in the Worth Woodsea," Freed recited.

"Wait, Master, I haven't even packed or—"

"Bye, bye!" Makarov chuckled.

"Rule activation starts… Now."

The wizards inside of Freed's coded cube flashed and began to flicker out of sight. Dreamer vanished completely. Jezran and Piper flashed for a moment longer before their bodies re-solidified. The walls of the rule box disappeared and the two men were left blinking in confusion. Freed lowered his head with a cloud of gloom hanging over him.

"I am truly sorry, Master. It is as I feared. I only have enough magic energy to teleport one wizard at a time."

Makarov leaned back and shrugged, a mischievous smile on his face. "Oh well."

Piper and Jezran exchanged a look and sighed. It looked like Dreamer was on her own.

* * *

 **Near the Wreckage of Nirvana; In the Worth Woodsea** :

Dreamer gasped for air as she was deposited roughly on a pile of rocks. One thing was for sure, she would never be traveling by Freed teleportation again. She righted herself and sat on a nearby rock to wait for Jezran and Piper. They shouldn't be too far behind.

Five minutes went by. Then ten. Fifteen.

She groaned and looked up at the star-scattered sky. "I get it, Master. I hope you're happy." She finally stood up and dusted off her leggings. She supposed she should find the nearby town so she wouldn't have to sleep in the woods. Maybe she'd be lucky and run into Erza, Natsu and the others and she could just ditch this dumb task and go home with them.

She started walking, trusting her instincts to guide her toward civilization.

"Why is he punishing me?" She muttered while she walked. Was he really that upset that she turned down his request to join Natsu's team in the coalition? It wasn't all her fault. Jezran and Piper weren't too keen on going with them either. What did Derelict Heart have to do with the Oracion Seis? And what could they have really done to help, anyway? They weren't one of the strongest teams in Fairy Tail. They were average, definitely not the type of team that could be expected to hold their own with Erza Scarlet's group. Beyond that, Dreamer wasn't a fighter. She would have been utterly useless in a huge battle like that. Choosing not to join the battle wasn't an act of cowardice, it was an obvious choice. They would have just gotten in the way.

She looked around her and noticed that all the trees here were completely crushed and swept to the side. One of the effects of the recent battle, most likely. She scoffed. Makarov really expected her to face off with people that could destroy miles of forest in one swipe?

She scaled rubble and destruction for what felt like hours. She worked her way through stone and metal, dirt and trees, as the moon rose in the sky. It had already been twenty-four hours since the destruction of Nirvana. If Natsu's team was in Clover town, they'd probably be leaving first thing in the morning. She needed to hurry. Good thing Makarov didn't give her any direction at all before tossing her here— _not_.

"Ugh, I can't keep this up." She sat on a stone to rest after climbing a mountain of debris. If this kept up, she'd have to sleep in the forest—and usually scavengers liked to come to recently destroyed places like this, hoping for a quick nab of valuables that had been forgotten in the battle. One might think that the danger would be over once the battle ended, but that was almost never the case. Often, enemies would come to gather their fallen—shady types would scour the battlefield. Dreamer would have no chance if another wizard decided to come tromping through here with ill intent.

She stood up and looked over the forest. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she could see lights flickering in the distance. It had to be the town.

Mind made, she hopped off the rock and started in that direction. She stumbled on scattered stones and fell, scraping her knees and elbows on jagged rock. "I hate this…" She grumbled and leaned to stand back up, but not before something caught her eye. The moonlight had caught on a shimmering object, drawing her eyes to glinting metal.

Curious, she crawled over debris toward the reflection. It looked like… An earring? She picked it up and examined it. A silver skull? "That's not creepy at all…"

She stood again. If someone's earring was here, could that mean that the owner was still around somewhere? She highly doubted it. By now, anyone who'd been involved in the battle would be dead, captured by the Council, or long gone. But still, it was technically her job to clean up the battlefield, and checking for survivors was one part of that.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" she called out. Her voice returned to her after bouncing off of fallen building walls. She began to move debris around, searching the immediate area. "I'm here to help! If you're here, speak up!" Again, there was no response. She wasn't surprised.

After about a half hour of searching, her back straightened with a pop. She stood up and sighed. She'd wasted enough time. She was ready to go toward the town lights. Her feet resumed their previous journey. She'd gone a total of ten steps before she could have sworn she heard a growl. She stopped in her tracks and tensed.

"A bear?" She looked around. Another growl echoed somewhere to her left. Even an animal could give someone like her a run for her money. One of the many drawbacks of not being a combat wizard.

Stones clicked nearby. Something was moving.

Heart in her throat, Dreamer turned toward the sounds and took a timid step forward. "W-who's there?"

A deep growl answered her and she nearly jumped back five feet.

"Come on, Dreamer… You're a Fairy Tail wizard," she chastised herself. "You're brave. You're strong." She chanted this over and over to herself as she moved forward again. There was a pit in the ground ahead of her, with wreckage scattered along the bottom of it. Another growl came from under a pile of rocks at the bottom.

"Maybe it's… a trapped animal?" She descended the side of the pit toward the sounds. Slowly, she approached the rocks. A low grumble emanated from beneath them. Shaking, she began to move them aside to uncover whatever creature was trapped beneath. Rolling away a large stone, she gasped when a hand flopped to the ground at her feet. With renewed fervor, she shoveled rocks out of the way.

What she uncovered was not an animal at all, but a young man. He was slender with black and white hair and enough makeup to make him look like a girl. He was wearing a silver skull earring that matched the one in her jacket pocket. Around his right arm was a white tied cloth directly under a tattoo that she recognized.

"Oracion Seis…" Her heart hammered against her ribs. This man wasn't some casualty of the battle, he was the enemy. "But if he's the one trapped under here, then where was that growling coming from?"

In response, the man let out a loud snore.

Dreamer sweatdropped. "He's sound asleep." She looked around to see if there was anyone else here, but the area was clear. Somehow, it seemed that the Magic Council overlooked this man when they made the first sweep. Maybe they just assumed he'd gotten away.

She returned to his side and gazed down at him. "What am I supposed to do now?" She couldn't just leave him here. He was badly injured, and besides that, he was a dangerous criminal. If he woke up and ran away, it would spell trouble. She'd have to get in touch with the Magic Council and turn him in, but of course she had no way to do that from here. The only thing she could do was take the man to town, maybe to a hospital, and call the Council from there.

"Great. Thanks, Master." Dreamer sighed and knelt down to scoop the sleeping man up against her shoulder. She just prayed that he wouldn't wake up between now and getting to town. She could never stand up to a member of the Oracion Seis.


	2. The Infamous Night Terror

**Chapter 2: The Infamous Night Terror**

Thank goodness, the town gate was just ahead. Dreamer groaned and adjusted the man's weight against her. "You're lucky you weigh as much as a girl, otherwise I'd have left you out there…" she mumbled to herself.

She paused before the gate and propped the sleeping man up so that she could untie the cloth around his arm. It probably wouldn't be a good thing to walk into town carting a man with a nice big Oracion Seis tattoo on his shoulder. So, she moved the cloth up and tied it over the guild mark. She'd do her best to keep his identity a secret until the Magic Council showed up to take him away. There was no need to worry the townspeople.

She pulled him back up and finally made her way onto paved streets. The sky was turning gray with early light by the time she found the local hospital. Her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion.

At the reception desk inside, she explained that she'd found the man in the wreckage and he needed medical attention. A peppy nurse was quick to roll a bed out to lay him on, which was a huge relief for Dreamer's aching back. She followed the nurse down the hall while quietly observing the sleeping man.

"Do you have any rooms without other patients?" she asked suddenly.

"Um, yes, I suppose. Is there a specific reason we should take him—"

"It would just be better that way," Dreamer said softly. The nurse looked at her and blinked before a serene smile lit her face.

"Yes, of course. Are there any other preferences you might have, miss?"

"I need to stay with him at all times," Dreamer answered.

"Hospital policy requires that only family members remain present after hours. Are you related to this man in some way?"

"No," Dreamer said honestly, "but you can trust me. This is the way it needs to be." Her voice was soft and flowing once more. The nurse nodded absentmindedly and smiled warmly at her.

"In that case, I don't mind at all. Please, feel free to relax while we see to your friend's wounds."

Dreamer nodded in satisfaction. That would be enough coercion for now. She settled into a chair by the window and watched while hospital staff tended to the man. She asked them kindly not to remove the cloth around his arm, and they were all too willing to comply with her request. He was bandaged and given fluids, all the while never once opening his eyes.

His eyes.

She watched as his pupils darted frantically under his eyelids. The way his body tensed every so often. The occasional twitch of a finger or tremor through his spine. He was dreaming… No... He was having nightmares.

Once the nurses had left the room, Dreamer pulled her chair up to the side of the bed. She studied his mascara-lidden eyelashes and smudged lipstick. Most of all, she studied his expression of terror. He was pale, eyebrows curved upward in fear, lower lip trembling.

Unable to resist the tug of curiosity any longer, she reached out and brushed her fingertips against his temple. "What do you see, wandering mind?"

She closed her eyes and drew upon her magical energy. In an instant she was there inside of the nightmare…

Iron bars. Dark cages. Men shouting orders. Crying and screaming. _Trapped. I'm trapped. Let me go, please! Let me go…_ Unidentifiable scraping sounds. Pain. _I can't sleep. I can't break free. I'll die like this, trapped here. Trapped here forever._ A child curled up on the ground with desperate red eyes, yearning for freedom. Yearning for rest. _Midnight. Don't let the clock strike midnight._ Looming demons with rows and rows of jagged teeth dripping blood. The child crying behind iron bars while the word repeats in his head, sharp and cold as steel that rips through any sanity and clarity he had left. _Midnight. I am Midnight. I will be free. I have to be free._

Dreamer gasped and pulled her hand away. Her heart was pounding and cold beads of sweat crept down her neck. She'd seen many nightmares in her time as a mage, but very few were as consuming and vivid as what she'd just seen. It was almost enough to drag her under with it.

"Midnight…" So that was who he was. Midnight of the Oracion Seis. The infamous Night Terror—an assassin who struck only in the dead of night and never wasted his time on small targets. The strongest member of the dark guild. She'd heard only a little bit about him in her time in the guild, and none of it good.

She shook her head to rid her mind of the lingering remnants of his nightmare. When she opened her eyes again, she was struck with the icy sensation that she was being watched. Slowly, she cast her gaze back down at the face of the sleeping assassin.

He was staring right back up at her.

She inhaled sharply and instinctively jerked back. His irises were expressionless and blood red—cold and piercing. They almost didn't seem human.

"Who are you?" He never blinked.

"M-My name's Dreamer. I rescued you."

"Rescued?" He started to sit up, confusedly scanning his surroundings. With every moment awake, his body began to tremble more until he was shaking. "Where are the others? Where is my father?"

She assumed he was talking about the other members of the Oracion Seis. She shook her head. "I don't know."

"N-No!" He shook violently and clutched his head in both hands. "H-He didn't! He couldn't have! Father, did you abandon me?" He was wild and the air began to weigh heavily with magical energy.

"Midnight," Dreamer said suddenly. He shot his eyes in her direction, immediately locking onto her pink irises. "Everything will be okay," she promised, ever-so-gently.

His shaking subsided.

"There's no reason to be afraid," she cooed. "Just rest. Rest and heal and everything will be better when you wake up. I promise."

He blinked sleepily and began to relax. She kept her eyes locked on his while he laid back down and finally stopped trembling. She smiled sweetly. "See? Everything gets better, doesn't it?"

Midnight's eyes closed once more and he fell quickly back into slumber. Dreamer released a long breath and leaned back in her seat. That was too close for comfort. She yawned. She decided to take the opportunity to snatch a few hours of sleep, herself. When she woke, she would ask the hospital staff to let her contact the Magic Council. She'd turn Midnight of the Oracion Seis in, wipe the dust off her hands, and return to the guild hall with her head held high. Makarov would _have_ to get off her back after this.

She peered at Midnight through one eye as she settled down in the chair. He was already twitching again—already caught in another bad dream.

"Poor guy," she yawned again. "I'd probably be evil too if my head was full of pictures like that every night."

She fell asleep.


	3. Compassion For The Enemy

**AN: So, I decided to post these first three chapters back to back, to kind of give a foundation to go off of. Starting with Chapter 4, I'll post weekly. Every Monday. ^.^ Oh, and anyone worried about me flaking out on the story, I'll let you in on a secret: I already have 27 chapters of this fic saved on my computer, so all I need to do is post them for your reading pleasure. Please enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Compassion For The Enemy**

Dreamer didn't wake up until the afternoon. Midnight was still sound asleep, much to her relief. She stood up and stretched out the aches from sleeping in an uncomfortable chair all day, then went to the door to call for a nurse.

"How's his condition?" she asked, when the doctor met her at the door.

"He has a broken wrist and two broken ribs, most likely from the rubble he was trapped under," the doctor said.

"Will he be able to travel soon?"

"As long as he doesn't overexert himself. He was severely dehydrated when you brought him here, and we haven't been able to feed him because of all the time he spends asleep. He's going to be physically weak when he leaves here, but as for his injuries, travel should be fine. His magical energy is also almost completely restored. We'd like to keep him one more night, at least."

Dreamer glanced back over her shoulder at Midnight and sighed. "One more night, huh?" She looked back at the doctor and nodded. "Thank you." He bowed slightly and returned to his duties while Dreamer walked back into the room. She _should_ call the Magic Council now to come and retrieve him, but… Well, knowing the Magic Council, they wouldn't care much about his injuries. They'd just toss him into the back of a magic mobile and shove him behind bars. That didn't sit well with her. Curse her good conscience but, despite the things he'd done, she thought he still deserved to be treated with humanity.

Mind made, she resolved to call the Magic Council before dawn and give him a while longer to heal. She knew it didn't make sense to feel compassion for a member of a dark guild—an enemy of Fairy Tail. She wondered if peeking into his nightmares had given her more empathy than she would naturally have for him.

"Stupid," she mumbled.

About an hour later, Midnight stirred. He woke up slowly this time, without trembling. He blinked groggily and looked at Dreamer. Her large eyes, pink as cherry blossoms, never straying from his…

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

He didn't answer immediately. He kept his eyes trained on hers and his breathing light, still waking up.

"Who are you again?"

"I'm Dreamer. Dreamer Cumula." She smiled gently. "I'm the one who found you in the Worth Woodsea. You were injured, so I brought you here."

He sat up, slowly. He winced in pain and pressed his hand against his bandaged chest.

"Be careful. You have some broken ribs."

He grunted and leaned back against the pillows. His eyes scanned her face once more. "Where are the others?" His voice was hoarse and tight, the fear threatening to crash back down upon him.

"I'm not sure," Dreamer answered. "I didn't see them out there."

"Then it's true…" He grasped the blanket with his unbroken hand and clenched his teeth. "He abandoned me… I failed him…"

"Midnight, look at me." She called his gaze back and he was once again trapped there. There was something so serene about her eyes… "You don't know if he abandoned you. Maybe he just couldn't find you after the battle. You were buried pretty deep under some rubble, you know?" That gentle smile, as glossy and pink as her eyes.

"…Maybe." He looked confused and somewhat dazed. He scratched the side of his head and tugged on the strand of white hair there.

"Why do you think you failed your father?" Her gaze was eternal.

"I lost… He needed me and I lost to that fairy…" His eyes wavered. "I'm worthless to him now."

"You're not worthless." She leaned a bit closer. "You tried your best, didn't you? I'm sure you fought with everything you had, and that's something to be proud of, right?"

"Something to be proud of…" He repeated her words absentmindedly and nodded.

"How about we get you something to eat and you can tell me about what happened at Nirvana?" She grinned cheerily and called for the nurse to bring him some food.

He picked at the meal he'd been given and talked to Dreamer. He told her all about the battle—about how the Oracion Seis had sought to revive Jellal and activate Nirvana. He told her about his battle with Hoteye and how Brain cried out to him in desperation to save them from Zero; and about how he had failed to do so by losing his fight to Erza Scarlet. Dreamer listened in silence, never looking away from him.

"I'm sorry you and your friends got hurt," she said finally, "but there's always good to be found, even in the hardest of situations."

"Good?" He narrowed his eyes at the piece of bread in his hand while he tried to comprehend the word. Dreamer saw the confliction in his expression and quickly drew his attention back to her.

"Midnight, I need to tell you something."

He opened his eyes wide and stared at her. "What?"

"I'm a Fairy Tail wizard."

His eyes opened even wider with shock. "You're a… Fairy Tail wizard?"

"That's right, but I won't hurt you," she added quickly. "I just want to tell you that… Well, I have to turn you in to the Magic Council. You've done some pretty bad things. But, there's a chance that you might see your friends there, so it won't be so bad." She smiled warmly.

He looked desperately at her, red eyes completely innocent and desperate. "They'll put me in a cell."

There was a sharp stinging in her chest as she remembered his nightmare. _Iron bars. Darkness and terror._ She almost lost focus, felt herself looking away from him.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself, Midnight?" She quickly changed subject, sensing that she was no match for such deep-rooted feelings of fear. Her diversion seemed to work. His posture relaxed and his stare softened.

"My name isn't Midnight, it's Macbeth."

"Macbeth." She tried it out on her tongue and grinned. "That's really nice name."

He relaxed even more and began to tell her about himself. About being trapped in the Tower of Heaven under Jellal's rule. About sleepless nights and nightmares and the man who took him in. Hours went by like this. The sun set outside and the moon crept across the sky.

"You don't seem like a bad person, Macbeth," Dreamer said, tiredly.

"…I don't?" he said, confused.

"No. You seem like a good person who's had a very bad life." She smiled again. "How about you get a little bit more rest before morning?"

He nodded and nestled himself back down in the bed. He fell asleep almost instantly.

Dreamer groaned and pressed her thumbs against her temples. That was exhausting. Combating the strength of his emotions was one of the most draining things she'd ever done as a wizard. Her magical energy was almost totally drained. Now that he was finally asleep again, she walked into the hall and asked for a crystal orb to contact the council.

Council member Lahar answered, looking irritated. Then again, he kind of always looked uptight, so…

"Who is this?" He asked, eyes narrowed behind thick glasses.

"This is Dreamer Cumula of Fairy Tail," she answered.

"Who?"

Dreamer sighed and rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter. Look, I'm here in Clover Town with Midnight of the Oracion Seis."

Lahar's expression suddenly changed. "Midnight, you say? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Can you be at the Clover Town hospital at dawn?"

"Yes, of course. Whatever you do, don't allow him out of your sight, Dimitri."

"It's Dreamer!"

"We are on our way."

Lahar broke the connection and the orb reverted to its cloudy form. Dreamer let out a long sigh. In a couple of hours, Midnight wouldn't be her responsibility anymore.

She returned to sit by his side until Lahar and/or his men showed up to capture him. She watched him sleep, once more. There was a strange tightness in her chest as she watched the outward expressions of the nightmares that were still gripping him. She wondered if he ever slept peacefully at all.

"Prison, huh?" She thought about everything he'd told her. About his all-consuming need for freedom because of the caged life he led in the Tower of Heaven. She knew that a miserable life didn't excuse is actions, but…

Her thoughts wandered to her own past. She'd felt caged too, though for entirely different reasons. And she could remember a time when she was possessed by nightmares in both her sleeping and waking life. It wasn't until she found Fairy Tail that she'd found peace.

Fairy Tail…

"Damn…" She was compromised and she knew it. "Well, if that's how it's going to be…"

* * *

Knights surrounded the Clover Town hospital. The sun was rising in the sky, reflecting off of polished armor. Lahar strode through the doors with purpose. "I am here to collect the fugitive."

The lady at the reception desk stared wide-eyed at him. "F-fugitive?"

Lahar described Midnight and the lady nodded vigorously before leading him down the hall to room 23. He strode ahead of her and slammed the door open, however…

"It's empty." He narrowed his eyes. The only sign that someone had been here was an unmade bed and a sticky note on the window that read, in curly letters, 'Sorry!'

"QUICK! Comb the town! Find the missing member of Oracion Seis!"

* * *

Dreamer wiped sweat from her forehead and leaned Midnight against a wall in an alleyway.

"I'm going to regret this."


	4. A Magic That Changes Emotion

**AN: Here's chapter 4 as promised! I just want to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited the story thus far! I was really worried about people not enjoying the story because A) Midnight isn't the most popular character, and B) even I have a hard time getting invested in the lives of OC's, but you guys have been so gracious to me so far!**

 **I'm not sure what the deal is with the review system right now, but I want to say that I AM getting emails when you guys review, even though the reviews aren't showing up on the review page, so don't be afraid to keep sending them!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: A Magic That Changes Emotion**

 **The Fairy Tail Guild Hall:**

"Dear me, dear me, do stop pacing lad!"

Jezran sat at one of the tables in the main room while Piper paced back and forth in front of the stage. His hands were buried deep in black pockets, shoulders tense, baby-blue hair unkempt.

"I'm tellin' ya, I got a bad feelin,' Pops." He slumped onto the bench across from Jezran. "It's been three days and not a word from her. Feels unlucky, if ya ask me."

"Oh, dear me." Jezran adjusted his top hat and stroked his salt and pepper mustache. "I am certain everything will be alright, lad. We must have faith in the lady."

"Ah come on, Pops!" He raised his voice. "You and I both know Dreamy ain't nothin' without us! If she runs into trouble and we ain't there to get her out of it…"

"Hey, what are you boys talking about?" Cana slid across the bench next to Piper.

"Master Makarov sent miss Dreamer out and she has not returned, dear me." Jezran fiddled with a pocket watch.

"Dreamer? On a mission by herself? You've gotta be kidding me!" Cana laughed out loud and took a deep swig from her beer barrel.

"Give me some of that," Piper demanded, reaching across her to try and grab her beer mug, which she held in the air out of his reach.

"No way. Aren't you three years sober? That's more for me!"

Piper was wrestling Cana for the pitcher when the guild hall doors swung open.

"We're home!" It was Natsu Dragneel, announcing his presence loudly to everyone, per the usual.

The guild erupted with applause as Natsu, Lucy, Gray, Erza, Happy, and two new faces walked in victorious. The new girl and cat were quickly introduced and the festivities underway. You know, since Fairy Tail had to celebrate any time someone came home from a mission—always a good excuse to drink more beer.

Piper clenched his teeth and called them over. "Yo, Natsu!"

"Huh?" Natsu swung his head toward the voice. His eyes lit up immediately, a smirk lighting his face. "Hey, Piper! I thought you'd never ask for a rematch after I whooped your butt the last time. But hey, if getting stomped is what you're into, then I'm totally game! Let's do it! Right here, right now!" Cue the dramatic leap onto the table.

"I ain't lookin' for a fight, hothead!" Piper bared his teeth right back at him. "I just wanna know if ya ran into Dreamy while you's was in Clova Town."

"Dreamy?" Natsu jumped off the table and crossed over to him. "Wait, you mean Didi?"

"Nah, man. Her name's Dreamer. Master sent her out afta you's guys to clean up your mess. Ya didn't see her?"

Natsu cocked his head like he was trying to remember. "HEY LUCY!"

"WHAT?" The blonde shot back at him from across the hall.

"Come here for a second!"

"This had better be good, Natsu!" She stomped over to him and put her hands on her hips.

"Did we run into Diane on our way home?"

"Dreamer."

"What he said." Natsu blinked at her.

"Dreamer?" Lucy put her finger to her chin in thought. "Hm… I don't think I'm really familiar with her. Can you describe her for me?"

"Yeah, she's like yea high, hair the color of uh…She's like... She looks real…" His cheeks seemed to take a little color. "Pops, help me out here!"

"The lady is precisely five feet, three inches tall. Her hair is an asymmetrical bob about shoulder length on the left side, dear me, and is a bit of a cream color, as one might expect when they put cream cheese and honey on a bagel. She has light pink eyes such as that of cherry blossoms or miss Mirajane's blush. She can generally be found wearing vests with leggings. Her bust size is approximately—"

"Alright, they get it, pops!" Piper cut him off. "Ring a bell?" He looked back to Lucy.

"Oh yeah, I guess I have seen her around the guild before…" She gazed into space. "But no, we didn't see her while we were gone. I'm sorry."

Piper sat back down with a groan. "We gotta go find her, pops."

"Dear me. Lad, have you checked the dice?"

"Checked the dice?" Lucy looked curiously at Natsu.

"Don't ask me!" The pink-haired salamander jutted his bottom lip out in a pout.

"Piper uses dice as his magic," Mirajane said, appearing out of nowhere behind Lucy. "One of his abilities is being able to determine someone's luck by rolling the dice in his pocket. It's not a hundred percent accurate, but it has been helpful for telling us what the chances are of certain people completing missions successfully. Master almost always consults Piper's dice before sending anyone on S rank missions!"

"Yeah, yeah, there's nothing accurate about it at all," Natsu scoffed. "He always tells me I'm gonna fail my missions. He hasn't been right once, huh Happy?"

"Aye sir!"

"Natsu, that's because Piper's magic doesn't work on you for some reason," Mirajane said.

"No, it's because he's a lousy wizard. Step up your game, Piper!"

Piper ignored him and took a pair of dice out of his pocket. He shook them in his hands then held them up to Cana. She blew a breath of air on them for good luck and then he rolled them on the table.

"Five… and three."

"So, seven?" Lucy watched in awe.

"Seven?! Pops, that's only a fifty-eight percent chance! We gotta go help her!"

"Oh, dear me, perhaps it would be wise…" Jezran stood up and tapped several times on his pocket-watch.

Piper threw a leather jacket on and headed for the door. Before he could open it, however, a massive hand slammed down in front of the doorway, blocking him. It was Makarov, stretched out from the counter to stop him.

"Stay right there, young man," the master said, darkly. The guild hall grew eerily silent.

"Master, Dreamy needs us! Her luck ain't lookin' so good and she's on her own. You gotta let us go help her!"

"Not going to happen." Makarov and Piper glared back and forth at each other. "I sent Dreamer out so that she would learn a lesson about having confidence in her own choices and abilities. If you constantly do all of the work for her, she will never improve as a wizard."

"Oh, dear me…" Jezran clutched his top hat to his chest, revealing perfect slicked-back brown hair.

"Gramps, it ain't that simple! You know she don't stand a chance out there on her own!"

Lucy watched along with all the other mages in awe and confusion. "I don't understand," she said quietly. "Why doesn't he think Dreamer can handle being on her own?"

"It's a little bit complicated," Mirajane answered next to her. "It has a bit to do with Dreamer's past... Then again, she doesn't have combat magic to protect her, either, so that's why she's not always the best in battle. She's still an amazing wizard though!" She smiled fondly. "I agree with Master! I think she'll be great on her own."

Piper and Makarov continued to argue while Lucy thought deeply.

"Come to think of it, I don't even know what kind of magic Dreamer uses."

"Not many people do," Mira said. "And she usually likes it that way. It makes it easier for her to use her magic."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Happy chimed in.

"Dear me, the lady uses charm magic, dear me," Jezran said after a moment of hesitation.

"She has the ability to manipulate the emotions of others," Mirajane continued. "She can put almost anyone at ease and make them trust her, even if they don't know her at all. She can do a lot more than that, too, but that's the foundation of her charm magic. Actually, that's how we became friends!" She showed a bittersweet smile at a memory. "Sometimes, especially the first year after what happened to Lisanna, Dreamer would use her magic to comfort me. She can be so selfless and kind." It was clear that Mira and Dreamer were pretty close. In fact, now that Lucy thought about it, she thought she could remember something about the two of them being roommates.

"Wow, that's amazing," Lucy said. "I guess she does seem like someone who would be easy to talk to."

"The downside, dear me, is that if the target knows she's using charm spells, it will break the spell of course."

"Like with the fake salamander!" Happy piped up.

"That's true," Mira said thoughtfully. "She never told me when she was using her magic on me, but usually I figured it out after I was calm. Anyway," she looked back at Piper and Makarov, "her magic isn't combative and it's not very useful in battle. That's why Piper's so worried about her."

"He loooooves her," Happy and Natsu said simultaneously.

"OH SHUT UP!" Lucy snapped. "I see… But then why is Master Makarov so adamant that she be left alone?"

"The dear master sees all of us as his children," Jezran said, though it was funny to imagine Makarov considering an old man like Jezran as one of his children, "and as such, he often uses tough love to teach us lessons, dear me. It is true, the lady doubts her own magical abilities and often defers to dear me or the lad in times of need. I believe the master intends to force her to rely on her own strengths for a change."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense." Lucy folded her arms over her chest. "It must be hard on Piper, though."

Aforementioned wizard was still trying to negotiate with Makarov.

"Master, please!"

"The answer is no, Piper!" Makarov's voice rumbled through the guild hall. "I am personally ashamed of the lack of faith you have in your own teammate. If you truly cared about her as you claim, then you would trust her enough to perform simple clean up duties in another town without holding her hand!"

Piper's face flushed and he stared at the ground in shame, burying his hands in his pockets.

"It would seem that perhaps Dreamer is not the only child Makarov is teaching a lesson, dear me," Jezran said quietly.

"Yeah… The master is being kind of harsh," Lucy agreed.

Piper finally trudged away from the door, shooting glares at the guild mates who were still staring. Lucy thought passively about all the people in Fairy Tail who she really didn't know that well. Fairy Tail had so many other members, all with their own stories and relationships. It was truly amazing that Makarov was able to hold all of them together and to know each of them well enough to be personally invested in their lives. She had a newfound reverence for their master after seeing this.

"Fairy Tail…" She said. She smiled as she looked around at all of the faces, people she knew and the ones she didn't. "What an amazing guild."


	5. Midnight

Chapter 5: Midnight

Dreamer's arms felt like they were going to fall off. She groaned and propped the sleeping dark wizard against a wall.

"A couple more days of this and I'll have arms like Elfman." She cracked her back and then set to work quickly on fixing Midnight's appearance. Earrings off, no makeup (well, less makeup. Getting it all off would have taken a firehose). She threw her jacket on him and tried to fix his wild hair somewhat. She looked across the street at a market stand and bought a pair of sunglasses which only came in pink but it didn't matter. A disguise was a disguise.

"Alright, let's get out of here." She hoisted him up again and kept walking. Only a couple of blocks to the train station and then a straight shot to Magnolia—and at least on the train she wouldn't have to keep packing around this man who might as well be a boulder.

About a block away from the station she heard armor clanking behind her. She looked desperately to the left and right but there were no alleyways to hide in. Deep breath. She leaned against a building as casually as possible with Midnight beside her—hair patted down, sporting pink sunglasses. His head kept slumping onto her shoulder.

She prayed silently that the soldiers would march on by but, of course, they paused when they came to her. She had a feeling her numbers weren't looking too hot on Piper's dice right about now…

"Excuse me, ladies?" One of the knights called out. "You wouldn't happen to have seen anyone suspicious around here?"

"Uh, suspicious? No, sir!" Dreamer grinned nervously and scratched the back of her head, while doing her best to support Midnight's body weight.

"Nuh uh," she hummed through closed lips to make it look like he was answering too. He started to slump again. She giggled anxiously and tried her best to inconspicuously prop him back up.

"Okay then." The knight nodded and started walking again.

 _Phew_. Dreamer's heart felt like it was rigged with an explosive magic circle. Much more of this and she'd have a heart attack.

"Wait," the knight said suddenly. He turned back and walked up to them, uncomfortably close. He narrowed his eyes and stared at Midnight. A chill went down Dreamer's spine and she tried to decide what she would do when he sounded the alarm. She could run south, but not carrying Midnight… She might have to slap him awake. First she'd try using her magic, but if that didn't work—"Would you like to go out some time?" The knight blushed fiercely and sheepishly glanced at Midnight's face and then the ground.

Dreamer's jaw hung open. He was asking Midnight on a date?!

She forced a girlish giggle and put an arm around Midnight's waist. "Sorry, but we're already together."

"Two cute girls?!" He gaped at them. "…That's hot!" Hearts gleamed in the knight's eyes.

"Ah, that's right!" She squeezed Midnight a little closer by the waist and planted a kiss on his cheek. _You just kissed a member of the Oracion Seis. No big deal, you know except for the fact that he's an evil assassin._ "Weren't you looking for someone?" She asked through clenched teeth. She met his eyes and forced a bit of persuasion onto him. The knight seemed to remember his duties and quickly stood upright.

"Right! Come on, we still have to shut down the train station like Lahar asked!" He ran with the other knight in the direction Dreamer had planned to go.

"So much for public transit…" She glanced over at Midnight with a heavy sigh. A smirk touched her cheeks. He did look like a girl.

Fifteen minutes later Dreamer was paying an ungodly price for a private boat ride across the lake. "There goes all of the money I had left from my last job…" Could this get any worse? She was already beginning to highly regret her decision not to turn Midnight in to the Council. The world seemed to be conspiring to put a halt to her choice.

"Alright, hop on."

At least she got to rest during the boat ride. She'd still have to find a way to get all the way from Oshibana to Magnolia but, for now she took the opportunity to rest her arms and back. "I really wish you'd wake up," she complained, shooting a glance at the other wizard. His response was a bubbly snore. "Man, this guy could sleep through anything."

Midnight didn't wake up until after they'd gotten off at Oshibana, Dreamer had stocked up on some food, and the sun had reached its peak in the sky. _Finally,_ he let out a groan and started to pick up his own feet. Dreamer made sure to draw her magical energy to the surface. She would need it to keep him compliant.

"Where are we?" he asked in a low voice.

"Oshibana," she gently answered.

He removed his weight from her and stood up on his own. "Where are we going?"

She looked over at him, causing him to meet her eyes. Her magic worked much better when her target was looking at her eyes. It wasn't impossible to use it effectively without the added bonus but, she didn't want to take any chances with Midnight. She had to keep his emotions suppressed or risk him running off or worse.

"I'd like to take you to Magnolia," she said carefully. He blinked, uncomprehending. "To Fairy Tail, of course," she added, as cheerily as possible.

"…Why?" He blinked and then plucked the pink sunglasses off of his face, "And why am I wearing these?"

Dreamer's cheeks reddened. "Oh yeah, sorry! Disguise." She quickly snatched them away from him. "And as for why I'm taking you to my guild… Well."

She didn't answer for a moment. They walked in silence on a dirt path along the outskirts of town. Birds chirped from tree branches and park benches. A group of children chased a yapping dog into the grass and Dreamer watched as Midnight's eyes followed them. The atmosphere was so warm and serene, nearly making her forget that she was walking an assassin through town.

"Honestly, Macbeth…" She glanced at him again, "I guess it's because I like you."

He didn't show any signs of emotion at her statement, just returned her look with his own glazed red eyes.

"I just felt too bad about turning you in to the Council. I didn't think you deserved the punishment they'd probably have for you, but…" She bit her lip. "I also can't just let you go, you know? You've hurt a lot of people." _My friends included._ "So, I decided to bring you to Fairy Tail so that our master can decide what to do with you." She gave an airy laugh and winked in his direction. "I guess I like you too much to turn you in!"

He didn't respond—simply stared at her.

"Everything will be okay, I promise. Whatever Master decides, it will just be one more step on your new journey. Isn't that exciting?"

"A new journey, you say?" He cocked his head slightly to the side and tossed a long strand of white hair over his shoulder. "Will I get to be accompanied by you on this new journey?"

Dreamer wasn't expecting the question or the sudden teasing tone to his voice. She blinked and looked to find him smirking at her, which caused an unwarranted pink shade to touched her cheeks.

"I suppose it's a possibility," she said, regaining composure. She kept her magical energy balanced while she smiled at him. She had to keep the mood light and encouraging. It was part of the illusion.

He let out a strange chuckle and put his hands in his pockets. "Then I suppose I'll let you take me to your guild."

"I'm glad." She withheld a relieved sigh. "Let's see if maybe we can get a train ticket." They might have better luck here than in Clover town. She hadn't seen any knights. Yet, anyway.

The Magic Council wasted no time in monitoring the entire railway system, so taking the train turned out to still be a no-go. Using just a smidgeon of her magic to coerce a renter into trusting her, Dreamer was luckily able to rent a magic-mobile. That was a better option anyway, for staying out of plain sight. She dropped the mobile off in Onibus so that they could walk the rest of the way without leaving a trail. They kept off the main road just within the outskirts of the East forest.

Dreamer rubbed her eyes and willed away a yawn. She was exhausted. Not only had she been using her magic energy since noon to keep Midnight's feelings suppressed, but she'd also drained her power driving that magic mobile. She almost wished Midnight would fall asleep again so that she could give the magic a rest. She wasn't sure she could make it all the way to the guild hall like this.

Normally, she wouldn't have to keep using her charm spell for such a long period of time. After initially causing a person to fall under her spell, that person would still be caught in the illusion even after the spell wore off. For example, the man she'd coerced into loaning them the magic-mobile—she'd used charm magic to make him trust her, and also to make him feel guilty about trying to swindle her. Even though Dreamer wasn't using her magical energy on him anymore, he would probably always remember her as trustworthy, and maybe even continue to feel guilty about swindling others. That's the magic of any kind of spell that tricks the mind. Once someone has already convinced themselves of something, they'll continue to believe it even after the spell is removed.

Given the nature of her situation with Midnight, however, Dreamer wanted to take great care that he remained under her spell, so she kept the spell active long after first casting it on him. The longer she could keep it up, the greater the chances would be that—once her spell finally wore off—he would continue behaving the way he was now. There was nothing more important than ensuring this. She had felt the raw power of his negative emotions and knew that if he were subjected to them again, he'd completely lose control. It was her responsibility to make sure he remained docile. Therefore, even though she was exhausted and nearly out of magic energy, she focused on maintaining the charm's magic circle.

"You seem down," Midnight said suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"What? Oh no, not at all!" She forced that encouraging smile once more. "I'm just tired, is all. I sure wish I could sleep the way you do."

Midnight gave a wry smile in response. "No, you don't."

Dreamer listened to the sound of their footsteps crunching leaves for a moment. "I noticed you don't seem to get very restful sleep. Do you still have nightmares?" As if she hadn't already snuck into his mind and seen them herself. "I remember you said you always had them when Jellal ruled the tower of heaven… Is it still hard, after all these years?"

"It's not hard," he stretched his arms as if he were either bored or uncomfortable. "It's impossible."

Dreamer felt another strong twinge of compassion for him. "You know… If you and I do end up going on a journey together, I can help you with that."

"Is that so?" He didn't sound like he believed her.

"It's true! It's one of my special tricks. My name isn't Dreamer for nothing, you know! I could replace your nightmares with good dreams, if you wanted." She grinned widely, even though she knew the chances of her magic overcoming nightmares as strong as his were null.

"I may have to take you up on that offer sometime," he said in response. He glanced at the trees around them. "Are we almost to Magnolia?"

"Yes!" She said cheerfully. "Look, if we go to the top of that hill, we'll probably be able to see it!" She ran ahead of him and up a hill in a clearing of trees. "Yep! There it is! And the Fairy Tail guild hall is just over there." She pointed out the beautiful city of Magnolia, sprawling out below her.

"Good," Midnight said in a low voice behind her.

Suddenly, Dreamer's chest felt tight, like a thin rope was wrapped around it, coiling to suffocate her. Her breath hitched in surprise and she looked down to see a strand of dark magical energy tightening around her like a spring.

"Because I was afraid that if I listened to that fake laugh of yours one more time, I was going to lose it." His voice dripped with cruel humor. He lifted a hand and twirled his finger, manipulating the coil around Dreamer's body and forcing her to look back at him.

"Y-you knew?" She forced the words out of slowly constricting lungs. She gaped at him in wide-eyed horror. The calm and quiet man she'd traveled with for the past several hours was now smirking from ear to ear, chest jutted and hand on his hip in haughty arrogance. The red of his eyes was as dark and sinister as blood. "But how?"

"That's a nasty little trick," he said, still smirking, "using charm magic. I even fell for it… At first."

Dreamer cried out as the coil tightened and grew upwards to her shoulders.

"But you gave yourself up and I was able to see right through your pathetic spell." He laughed out loud. "You must have been dreaming to think you could fool _me._ "

"I don't understand…" She writhed in the clutches of his magic, making a futile attempt to escape. "I was thorough! I never released the spell!"

"Perhaps the greatest weakness of magic like yours is that its bound by the limits of its target's imagination. You can only force someone to believe something within the realms of what they already know is possible." He forced her onto her knees and guided the coil higher, around her neck. "Your spell broke the moment you told me I'm a good person."

Dreamer shook her head. It didn't make sense. He'd known ever since she'd talked with him in the hospital?

"Do you even know who I am?" He cackled and walked up to her. His magic forced her to the ground and he stood looming in front of her like a demonic shadow. "I'm Midnight, the strongest member of the Oracion Seis, stronger than even Brain himself. My heart is as black as the darkest pit in hell!" He said this proudly, wildly. "And you were stupid enough… No, you had the _audacity_ to suggest that I'm a good person?" He laughed as if it were the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "If you knew me at all, you'd know that such a suggestion doesn't exist in the realm of my imagination. _That's_ why your pathetic little spell broke."

She whimpered in pain, the coil beginning to tighten around her neck.

"Th-then why? Why did you… pretend… you were still under the s-spell?" She struggled to form words. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"That's easy." He looked cruelly down at her and watched her struggle. "Playing along with you bought me time to escape the Magic Council, though I have to admit, that wasn't my main incentive. Actually…" He pressed the heel of his boot against her head. "After I realized you'd tricked me, I was furious. And now, there's nothing I would like more than to hear a sweet lullaby of pain as I kill you just outside your city." He got on one knee and leaned to breathe against her ear. "I want to see the look of devastation on Titania Erza's face when she finds your body here. She, and all of Fairy Tail, will pay for making me look like a failure."

"Macbeth…" She pleaded with him, seeing starbursts in her vision.

"My name isn't Macbeth," he said harshly before standing up again. "It's Midnight."


	6. Luck Versus Darkness

**Chapter 6: Luck Versus Darkness**

"My name isn't Macbeth. It's Midnight."

Dreamer's body began to go limp, the lack of oxygen finally robbing her of consciousness. Through a black haze she could hear another voice. She struggled to make sense of it.

"Midnight, huh?" The voice cut through the darkness that was enveloping her. Something about it was familiar. "I'm gonna need ya to let the girl go."

"Oh? And why would I do that?"

"Because you don't wanna push your luck."

 _Push your luck._ Dreamer forced her eyes open and choked for a breath. She knew that catchphrase.

"P-Piper…"

Her teammate stood on the other end of the clearing facing Midnight. His face was set in a hard expression, fiercer than even his usual angry scowl. He rolled his shoulders in preparation for a battle and scratched the shaved side of his sky-blue hair.

"Hey, Dreamy. Sorry I'm late," Piper's emerald eyes were narrowed at Midnight, but his voice was gentle when he called out to her. "Tried ta tell the old man that your numbers wasn't lookin' too hot, but he insisted I stay out of it. Good thing I gots a problem with authority."

"Hm, another Fairy Tail wizard," Midnight crossed his arms over his chest. "I hope you can provide me with some more entertainment. The past few days have been miserable. I'm itching for some chaos and agony."

Piper moved suddenly, throwing a handful of razor sharp casino chips like ninja stars in Midnight's direction. He nimbly dodged out of the way, but the coil around Dreamer's throat loosened slightly, just enough for the haze in her skull to dissipate.

"Piper, no!" Dreamer called out while the man dug in his leather jacket for a deck of cards. "You can't fight him! He's one of the Oracion Seis!"

"Have some faith in me, Dreamy." He slid the cards out in the air in front of him as if he were a blackjack dealer. "Besides, what the hell am I supposed to do? Let the guy kill ya out here?"

"No, please! You guys don't need to fight!" She looked up at the back of Midnight's head, his hair being flicked by the breeze. He stood so still and proud, not intimidated by Piper in the least. A fight with him was going to bad…

"Your move!" Piper called out to Midnight. "Hit or stay?"

Midnight said nothing, just smirked wider.

"Stay?" Piper placed another card. "Dealer wins. Lucky me."

A cage of magical cards suddenly surrounded Midnight. The numbers on the cards glowed red and began shooting bullets at Midnight from all angles, causing a shroud of explosive dust. Dreamer gasped and jumped back, away from the explosions. It was only then that she realized the magic energy that had been holding her was gone. Did that mean Piper won? Was Midnight down?

When the smoke dissipated, Midnight was still standing. There wasn't a scratch on him. He hadn't even moved.

Piper blinked in shock and took an uncertain step back. "What the hell?"

The air around Midnight turned bright white and all the bullets Piper had shot at him were reflected back. Piper shielded himself at the last moment using a magic circle in the shape of a roulette table.

"Is that the best you've got?" Midnight mocked. "You might just bore me to tears."

"Macbeth, you don't have to do this!" Dreamer appealed to him again.

"Of course I don't," he scoffed. "I _want_ to." He licked his lips. Bloodlust shined in his eyes.

Piper regained composure and dug in his pocket. "You're tougher than I thought. Let's check my odds."

"Piper, no! If he could reflect that spell back at you, then what makes you think he can't reflect anything you use! You can't pull out your dice, please!"

"Did anyone ever tell you, you talk too much?" Midnight flicked his wrist and one of Piper's cards materialized in the air and shot at her, like the others. She rolled to the side, getting grazed by the bullet in the shoulder instead of her skull.

"Leave her alone!" Piper shouted. "The bone you's got ta pick is with me!" He rolled two red dice in the air. Numbers shone above them. Piper clenched his teeth. A three and a one.

"If those are the odds that you'll beat me, then maybe you should quit now." Midnight laughed callously.

"Not a chance," Piper snapped. "Wanna know what's so great about my magic? The lower the odds of success, the stronger my attacks are!"

The dots on the dice flickered and shapes began to spring from them. "I rolled a four and that means: Four Horsemen!" The shapes took the form of four ephemeral black horses with white eyes. The neighed loudly and stampeded toward Midnight.

Not one of the charging horses managed to hit him. The lifted on their hind legs and turned around, eyes focused on Piper instead. He cried out and ducked down as they trampled over his head.

"Piper!" Dreamer cried out in horror.

He stood up and wiped dirt off of his cheek. He lifted the dice again.

"Are you crazy?" Dreamer shouted. "He'll just hit you again!"

"Listen, Dreamy. I ain't got anotha choice. I'm gonna die protectin' my teammate. My _girl_. I wouldn't be a member of Derelict Heart—no, I wouldn't be a member of Fairy Tail if I didn't try my damndest to put this bastard down!"

He rolled again. This time it was only a three.

"Three Match Payoff!"

The sound of winning slot machines filled the air. The sky flashed with blinding neon lights. The clamor was supposed to be enough of a distraction to let Piper get close. He charged at Midnight and threw a fist toward his face. Midnight caught his fist with one hand and lifted a boot to kick him square in the chest, sending him flying back and against a tree.

"Are you done yet? I'm getting sleepy."

Piper groaned and stood up. He swayed and supported his body weight against the tree.

"I ain't done yet, pretty boy." He grabbed his dice yet again. Midnight scoffed and put his hands in his pockets, just waiting to see what would be thrown at him. Piper tossed the dice and watched as they flipped slowly so that each showed only one black marking. "Snake eyes."

The ground began to tremble. Midnight's smirk grew wider. Magical energy sparked in the air…

"STOP!"

The air held still.

Arms closed around Midnight's neck. Dreamer buried her face against his back, tears rolling along the fabric of his vest. She trembled violently and held onto him in the unexpected embrace with all the energy she had left. Blood trickled from her shoulder, staining the white fur red. His eyes widened—his smirk dropped into a disgusted scowl.

"You don't have to do this," she repeated, voice shaky with emotion. "I know what I saw, Macbeth. There's good in you. It's buried under a lot of pain and fear, but it's there. It's in the face of a little boy who only wants to find a quiet place where he can sleep in peace. It's in the heart of a child who just wants to be free from pain and chaos. You keep telling yourself that you're cruel, but I know that deep down, you don't want to be. Deep down, you have compassion for your friends in the Oracion Seis and for everyone who's ever been forced into slavery the way you were. You're not a bad person. At least, not completely."

Piper's magic faded as he watched the exchange with just as shocked an expression as Midnight. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Your charm magic won't work on me, fairy rat," Midnight hissed. "Not since I know about it."

"I'm not using my magic," she whispered. "My magical energy is completely expelled. All I'm trying to do is appeal to your heart."

The disgusted frown on Midnight's face deepened. He opened his mouth to speak but Dreamer's fingertips suddenly brushed across his lips. His eyes widened to the full extent, pupils retracting in utter shock. Then, everything made sense, the moment a tiny round pill dissolved against his tongue.

Dreamer braced herself and caught him as the sleeper pill took instant effect. He collapsed in her arms, already releasing a loud snore. She sighed in relief and slid the bottle of round pink pills back into her pouch. Then, unable to keep her energy up any longer, she collapsed with the dark wizard.


	7. Our Choices Have Consequences

**Chapter 7: Our Choices Have Consequences**

 **A/N: Hey guys! I'm really glad I have some loyal followers and people that seem to be enjoying this story! I may start posting on Sunday evenings instead of Monday mornings because I've had a change in my schedule, just to keep you updated! I also greatly appreciate when you leave me reviews and let me know your thoughts. I'm hoping I can get some love from you guys for Piper. I've grown really fond of him as an OC, but then again, I am like 30 chapters ahead of you dear readers. ;)**

* * *

"Dreamy!" Piper was by her side in an instant. He clutched her against his chest, pulling her away from Midnight. With emerald eyes shining concern, he tucked hair behind her ear and held her by the chin, checking to see if she was conscious.

She blinked tiredly at her teammate. Her muscles loosened, the exhaustion making her go limp—but she managed a smile. "I'm okay," she assured him.

" _Okay_?" He gritted his teeth in disbelief. "You seen your shoulder, doll? That's gonna need stitches! I mean what the hell was you's thinkin,' bringing that guy here?"

Dreamer winced at his harsh tone. She found she couldn't keep eye contact with her teammate's accusing glare, so she looked back over at Midnight, asleep on the freshly upturned earth, face obscured by a mess of dual-colored hair. She shook her head, still avoiding Piper's gaze. "It's hard to explain." Because there was no explanation. No good one, at least.

"You able to stand?" Piper asked.

She nodded. He helped her to her feet and acted as a crutch, as if he didn't trust her ability to stand on her own. She appreciated the notion—her body felt like it weighed a ton. One of the effects of being out of magic energy.

"Well, we ain't got no choice but to take the bastard to the guild now," Piper said, as if the idea of doing that was just as welcoming as facing Erza and Mirajane together in combat.

Dreamer nodded. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Piper. If my magic were stronger, he would have never seen through—"

"Shut up," Piper cut her off. "I don't wanna hear you's bad mouth yourself, got it? Most of our guild wouldn't be able to stand 'gainst this guy. All that matters is my girl's safe." He gave her other shoulder a comforting squeeze, then let her go so that he could cross over to Midnight. He cast the dark wizard a look of disgust before hoisting him up onto his shoulder. "But you's oughta be more careful with those sleepin' pills, got it? How many you got left?"

Dreamer pulled out the bottle. There were no more than ten inside.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He grunted and adjusted Midnight's weight. "Who knows when you'll see Mystogan again to get more, ya know? Ain't I told ya not to use 'em so willy nilly?"

"It seemed like a good time," Dreamer countered, slipping the bottle back into her pocket. "We were no match for him." She could almost still feel the tight coil of magical energy wrapping around her throat. She absentmindedly touched the gash on her shoulder, recoiling slightly at the damp sensation of blood on her fingertips.

"Ah, I coulda took 'im." Piper scowled and trudged past her, struggling to support Midnight because of his own injuries. He was covered in bruises and dirt, and it looked like his holey jeans had some new tears. Dreamer caught up and went to throw Midnight's other arm around her shoulder but got a warning look from the dice-wizard. "You stay away from this guy, you hear? If he wakes up again, I wantcha to run to the guild and get back up. I don't want ya stickin' around, got it?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but there was desperation in his expression. She pinched her lips and nodded.

They made slow progress to the glowing city of Magnolia, taking dark side alleys all the way to the guild hall so as not to draw too much attention. It was late and most everyone was in bed, but that would just make them all the more suspicious dragging their beat up bodies through town with an unconscious wizard bearing striking resemblance to the missing member of Oracion Seis.

The guild hall was closed as it was after hours, but Fairy Tail was never really off duty. A different member of the guild was assigned to sit at the desk every night in case of emergencies. And often, members stayed late to finish paperwork, study, or just to be away from home (Macao and Wakaba were prime examples of the last one. The guild was where they went when their wives had kicked them to the couch). The lights in the guild hall never stop shining, making it a welcoming beacon both day and night.

Tonight, Bixlow of the Thunder Legion was on duty. He was sitting behind the information desk with his feet propped up and a dirty magazine in his hands—a stack of other scandalous material on the desk next to him, mostly cut out Sorcerer Weekly centerfolds, along with three crushed cans of some energy drink and a bag of potato chips. He grinned ear to ear at them when they walked in the door.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Glad you're back safely, Daisy."

"Dreamer," Dreamer and Piper said simultaneously.

"Whatever. Think I'd remember your name with a body like that?" He stuck his tongue out lewdly, showing off the Fairy Tail insignia on it.

"Shut your damn mouth, Bixlow, before I shove it fulla casino chips."

"Ooh, someone's possessive."

"Bix," Dreamer cut him off. "We need to see the master. Now."

"In that case, lemme ring him up for you." He leaned back unconcernedly in the chair and cupped his hands around his mouth. "MASTER!" he yelled through the hall.

"He's already here," Dreamer stated in relief. She was ready to get this over with. The last three days felt like the longest days of her life. There was nothing she wanted more than to go home to Mirajane and Syllestra.

A moment later, Master Makarov descended the steps from the second floor. Piper deposited Midnight's limp body on one of the guild tables (rather roughly), and Dreamer braced herself for the lecture of a lifetime. Bixlow sat his magazine down and grabbed a handful of chips, ready to enjoy the show.

"Dreamer. Welcome home," Makarov said with a kind smile. The little master was still in his pajamas, green cap drooping to the side. Dreamer bowed deeply to him. He walked slowly up to the table Midnight was on and climbed on top of it. His hands folded over his chest and he frowned as he examined the sleeping man. "And this must be the Night Terror, Midnight of Oracion Seis."

She looked at him in shock. "How do you know?" She'd never contacted the guild about bringing him here.

"You see, I happened to get a call from Lahar of the Magic Council early this morning. He told me that if I were to see you, Dreamer, with a suspicious young dark wizard, I was to turn you in to the authorities immediately."

"Oh, yeah…" She hung her head in shame. That was right, she'd almost forgotten that she'd called the council and then changed her mind about turning Midnight in. She hadn't even considered the repercussions that would mean for Fairy Tail collectively.

"Gramps, I found this guy in the woods about to put an end to Dreamer here," Piper said, with a harsh glare toward Midnight.

"And what were you doing in the woods, Piper? Not disobeying a direct order, were you?"

Piper's head quickly lowered alongside Dreamer's.

She took a knee in front of Makarov and bowed her head low. When she spoke, her voice was humble. "Master, I know that I've caused problems for you and for Fairy Tail. I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary, and I will also accept whatever you decide to do with the prisoner."

 _Prisoner._ For some reason, using that word when talking about the man whose nightmares she'd seen felt like betrayal.

"Before I make any decisions on the matter," Makarov said and stroked his mustache, "I want to know what you were thinking, Dreamer. Why rescue this man in the first place? You know what he did to your friends, do you not?"

Dreamer trembled and didn't lift her head. Piper instinctively stooped down and put a hand on her shoulder, to remind her that she wasn't alone. His familiar cologne was comforting.

"I don't have a good reason, Master. I just… I was compromised. I had compassion for him and I couldn't bring myself to turn him in." She met Makarov's eyes with some ferocity. "I… I won't do it. You are free to do so yourself, but I will not be the one to hand him over to the council."

Piper looked at her in shock and disbelief. He clenched his teeth together and focused his narrowed eyes on the wizard on the table. Midnight seemed utterly ignorant of everything that was going on around him, even to the point of snoring.

"I see." Makarov went quiet. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood in thought. Dreamer continued to tremble. This was the worst part of any and every lecture from the master. The moment before he cast his judgement. She felt like a child about to be scolded, except… Well, ten times worse than that. "Tell me, Dreamer. Do you truly see good in this young man?"

She looked up, mouth slightly ajar at the question. She furrowed her brows and looked from Makarov to Midnight to Piper, and back.

"Good? You gotta be kiddin' me!" Piper raised his voice, the anger clear at the edge of his tone. "This guy's a murderer, gramps! You know what he did to Erza! You know about all the requests we've got in the past, askin' for us to capture him! He ain't good! He ain't even decent! He—"

"Silence, Piper." Makarov cut him off. "I was talking to Dreamer."

Piper pinched his lips shut and made a gruff sound, insinuating that he had a lot more he wanted to say.

"I…" Dreamer kept her eyes focused on Midnight's sleeping face. The flutter of his eyelashes, the occasional twitch of his lip in an expression of discomfort—fear. She couldn't shake the images. The iron bars. The sound of screaming, dying children. The demon looming over him at all times and, most of all, the desperation to be free. "Yes." She said, with finality.

"What?! Dreamy—"

"Don't get me wrong, Master." She quickly added. "He's not a _good_ person. He's full of rage and hate. He's a twisted sadist, but… There's something else there too. I-I can't explain it. I just know that he… He could be a different person if only… I just…" She tapered off. There was no way to explain the intuitive things that her magic allowed her to understand and experience. Putting them into words was an impossible task.

"Have faith in yourself, Dreamer," Makarov said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You understand the motives of others more than most. "If you believe this man can be redeemed, then it must be true."

Piper couldn't believe what he was hearing. He finally stood up and clenched a fist, veins pulsing. "Redeemed? We redeem murderers now? Since when is that Fairy Tail's responsibility? We gotta call the council, NOW, before this guy does some real damage!"

"Piper!" Makarov called him out again. "I understand that you care for Dreamer and you wish only for her safety. Those are admirable qualities, young man. _However_ , you have not learned that respecting her choices is as important as making sure she is safe. I, for one, find no fault in her choice to bring Midnight here. In fact," he looked back at Dreamer, "I am moved by your determination to trust your instincts, despite the opposition you faced. I sent you on this mission in order to enable you to follow your heart and build confidence in your magical abilities. I believe you have accomplished that task. The proof is in the man at my feet."

She was confused and humbled by the unexpected praise. Tears pricked her eyes.

"I find no reason to doubt that Dreamer is right about Midnight. And as master of Fairy Tail, I can not turn away a young person in need of help—not when there is even the slightest chance that he may find redemption."

She blinked, slowly rising to her feet as well. Bixlow sat forward in his chair.

"This is getting good," he said, popping random popcorn onto his tongue.

"Wait… So, you're not going to turn him in to the Council?" She was surprised. She wasn't sure exactly what she'd been expecting when she decided to bring the assassin here. In all honesty, there had been no forethought or planning at _all_ in the past three days.

Makarov didn't answer. Instead, he put the heel of his foot on Midnight's forehead and prodded him. "Wake up, boy!"

"Master, what are you doing?" Piper and Dreamer said in unison.

Makarov kept jabbing Midnight with his foot until the wizard finally stirred. He sat up groggily, uncomprehending of his surroundings, looking momentarily like a drooling toddler. His red eyes scanned the room and faces until he saw Dreamer. Then, recognition flickered across his features and all innocence evaporated in favor for a dark sneer.

"You!" He jerked toward her, but Makarov's hand clasped hard onto his shoulder, stopping him.

"Midnight, I am Makarov, master of the Fairy Tail guild. You are under my roof, now."

Midnight's eyes were wide in both terror and rage. He clenched his fists and trembled, choking down panic that was welling inside of him. His eyes darted frantically around the room and at all the faces as he processed what was happening.

"So what?" He snapped at Makarov, wildly. "The bitch managed to get me here, finally? What are you going to do, call the Council?"

"Hey, you watch your goddamn mouth, you crossdressing freak!" Piper raised a fist, ready to pounce. It was Bixlow's arms that restrained him.

"Don't do it man. Master'll squash you like a bug."

"Calling the council is certainly a possibility," Makarov said, not losing his cool. "However, if possible, I would like to refrain from taking that course of action. You see, for one reason or another, a child of mine believes that you are undeserving of imprisonment."

Midnight's eyes shot at Dreamer. She gulped and stared at the wood of the table, regretting every decision she had made up to this point. _Good one, Dreamer. Hand deliver the assassin, piss everyone off, put the guild in danger… Why did Master think MY instincts could be trusted?_

"However, that makes quite a dilemma for me." He sat on the table and crossed his legs. "I can't let you walk away from here freely. Not after you've caused harm to my children and so many citizens of Fiore."

Midnight's jaw was clenched tight and his breathing ragged. He looked like a feral cat, locked inside of a cage. He wanted so desperately to flee, to lash out with his claws. Dreamer could feel it. She could feel the hatred and fear sparking, swirling in the chilly air of the hall. It made her heart hurt—like she was being stung by an invisible wasp that had been set loose in her chest from the moment she chose to enter the Night Terror's dreamscape.

"There seems to be only one option." Makarov met Midnight's eyes evenly. He paused, likely for dramatic effect, forcing everyone in the room to hold their breaths before he delivered the completely unforeseen next line.

"Welcome to Fairy Tail, boy."


	8. Welcome To Fairy Tail!

**Chapter 8: Welcome To Fairy Tail!**

"There seems to be only one option." Makarov met Midnight's eyes evenly. "Welcome to Fairy Tail, boy."

There was a moment of silence that lasted a lifetime—and then a resounding "What?!" from everyone else in the room.

"You must be dreaming," Midnight snapped. "Me? Join Fairy Tail?"

"Gramps, you's been drinkin' or somethin?'"

"Ooh, I wish I had a recording lacryma on me," Bixlow said with a tremor of excitement in his voice.

"It is the only option besides turning you into the council," Makarov said, voice still even. "Don't be mistaken, however. In the event you do stay here, you will not be joining as a wizard. Your role in the guild will be that of a staff member. You will immediately be fitted with a magic-limiting lacryma and you will be under constant surveillance. Your duties will be that of a servant to the guild."

Midnight scoffed, black lips turning down in a sneer. "I'd rather die than be a slave to Fairy Tail."

"Master…" Dreamer spoke up with a trembling voice. "I know I said that he could be redeemed, but I… I wasn't saying I want him in our guild!"

"Finally, you're talkin' some sense," Piper grumbled next to her.

"Listen, young man," Makarov said sternly, still addressing Midnight. "It is freedom you seek, correct?"

Midnight scowled but didn't answer. He was trembling, though from anger or fear, it wasn't clear.

"Freedom is not something you deserve," Makarov said seriously. His voice held a mystical type of authority that demanded attention. "Freedom belongs to those who walk in light. You, young man, have walked in darkness for most of your life. You have caused great harm to countless innocent people, including the pain you caused my own children-an unforgivable sin." A shadow of rage waited in his eyes, ready to spring. But then, his gaze softened. Dreamer could feel the emotion that grew inside of the little stature, big heart master. _Pity._ No... _Sympathy._ "Because of your transgressions, the Magic Council would seek to imprison you for the rest of your life."

Midnight's red eyes swam with terror. His breaths became shallow, almost to the point of hyperventilating.

Dreamer watched him with an aching heart.

"You have two options," Makarov continued. "Since freedom is not one of the options, you must choose between two forms of captivity." He paced on the table-top. Midnight's eyes followed him as if in a terrified trance. "Option number one," he lifted a finger. "I turn you in to the council. You have your magic stripped forcibly away and you are locked in an isolated lacryma, only ten feet by ten feet wide, away from sunlight, away from fresh air. You are possibly fed three times a day, depending on the mercy of your prison guard that day. You spend the remainder of your life like this, trapped in the memories of the pain you have caused others."

"It's less than what he deserves," Piper said under his breath. Dreamer shot him a warning glare.

"Option number two," he lifted a second finger. "You remain here in Fairy Tail. You have your magic limited, but not entirely stripped from you. You are not caged like some wild animal. You have a bed, warm food, sunlight, and company." A soft smile tugged at his lips. He gestured to the grand hall around him, a welcoming and warm home to so many wizards. "You serve the members of Fairy Tail and the people of Magnolia, to make up for the pain that you have caused. Over time, you perhaps earn your redemption, and maybe even your freedom, _if_ you pay your debts to the families you have injured throughout Fiore." He closed his eyes and breathed a long sigh. "It will not be an easy path, and likely far more painful than a life of solitude. However, I assure you... It will be worth it."

Midnight trembled and stared at the wooden grooves on the table. He shivered helplessly, reminding Dreamer of the child in his memories. Helpless. Scared.

"You won't be alone," she spoke up without thinking. The words flowed out naturally, inspired by her compassion for this stranger. She instinctively stepped forward, stopped only by Piper's grip on her shoulder.

Midnight put his face in his hands and started to sob. "I'll never be free!" He cried out in desperation and turned his eyes toward the ceiling. "It wasn't supposed to be like this!" His panicked whine echoed in the chambered hall. "Father told me I would be free! He told me I was the strongest wizard alive! And now I'm a slave to fairies?! It's not fair!" His voice was a wild scream. "What about my prayer?" His voice broke. "Did you lie to me, Father?!"

The others watched in silence as the sobs wracked his body. Even Piper kept his mouth shut. Only a monster could see how broken this man was at that moment, and not take at least some pity on him.

"Dear boy," Makarov said with a sad sigh, "the path of darkness rarely leads to fulfillment. It is the path of light that leads to joy, even if it doesn't lead to the thing you desire. You may never find your freedom, even if you choose to walk a path away from the shadows—but I promise that you will find something even greater. You will find _hope_."

Midnight's sobs turned to quiet gasps. "I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice, young man."

His shoulders shook. Black nails dug into the tabletop. He wrapped his arms around himself. "I'll stay." It was nothing but a whimper.

Makarov gave a satisfied nod. Dreamer released a breath, relief washing over her. Bixlow chuckled and muttered something about how he wished Laxus could see this. Piper released Dreamer's shoulder and turned his head in disgust, fists clenched so hard that veins bulged above his knuckles.

"Piper," the master said, "from tonight on, Midnight will be rooming with you in the boy's dormitory."

"What?!" Piper was on his feet in an instant. "The hell he is!"

"This is non-negotiable," Makarov raised his voice. "He must be under supervision at all times. I will have Freed place a rule upon the dormitory that he will not be allowed to leave during the night, and another rule upon the guild hall. I expect you to keep an eye on him and treat him with respect."

"Respect?! After what he did to Dreamy?! Gramps, you seen her shoulder?!" The chains on his pants jangled as he took a step of disbelief toward the table.

"I'm okay, Piper…" Dreamer said quietly, though her shoulder did still throb from pain, and her dress strap was soaked red. She'd almost forgotten he'd injured her.

"During the day, Midnight will be under _your_ supervision, Dreamer," Makarov ignored the blue-haired wizard. "Since you were the one who brought him here, you will be responsible for his reformation. This includes tasking and supervising activities for him as a servant of the guild."

She blinked and shook her head, lips parting in surprise. "No, I can't! I didn't intend-"

"When you make a decision, you must stand by the consequences of that decision, young lady."

"But Syllest—"

"Will not be in any danger," he cut her off. "I will personally see to that."

She bowed her head in submission. "Yes, Master."

"Young man," Makarov looked at Midnight's helpless form on the table again. "Do you understand the position you are in?"

He was no longer crying. His eyes were hazy but calm. "I understand." The spirit was gone from his voice, along with any will to argue or fight back.

"I will say this only once," Makarov said. "If you bring harm upon any of my children again, you will suffer a fate far worse than imprisonment by the council. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." Submissive. Broken.

"Good. Then this meeting is dismissed. Dreamer, go home and see to your wounds. Piper, escort Midnight to the dorms, but try to keep him out of sight. Wouldn't want to work anyone up just yet." He chuckled thoughtfully, as if he was already imagining how the other guild members were going to react.

"Fine." Piper hissed. "But I ain't happy about this. And don't says I didn't warn ya when this bastard attacks one of our own."

"That won't happen, if you're doing your job," Makarov chided.

"Can we fit 'im with that magic limiter first?" Piper asked.

Makarov nodded. He stepped off of the table, officially closing the conversation. "Dreamer, get some rest. You're off duty tomorrow. Piper will keep an eye on Midnight so that you can be home. And don't worry about paperwork. We'll keep this mission off the record."

"Hey, I ain't questioning your decision, Master," Bixlow spoke up, "but aren't you forgetting something?"

The others, excluding Midnight—who was either numbly closing his eyes or sleeping again—looked at him.

"Won't the Magic Council be up our ass when they find out we're harboring him? I mean, they already know he was with Dora here."

"DREAMER!"

"Whatever."

"Let me worry about that," the master said coolly. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a very comfortable bed waiting for me. Don't wake me up again." He waved and walked with his hands behind his back.

"Gramps, wait!" Piper yelled. " _The magic limiter_!"

"Right, right. Silly me, I keep forgetting." The tone of voice implied he was more likely enjoying tormenting Piper than actually being forgetful. "Let's go see if Freed is still working in the library." He strode off, whistling.

"Come on, bastard," Piper glared at the dark wizard. Midnight stood up slowly and jumped off the table. Piper thrust his hands in his pockets and started for the door with him following, like a zombie or a scolded puppy.

"Macbeth…" Dreamer called after him. He turned and looked at her, but she'd forgotten what she was going to say. "I… I'm…" What? Sorry? She wasn't sorry. Not for capturing him. Not for bringing him here. But she was sorry for the pain he was feeling. She wished she could end it, somehow.

He narrowed his eyes. His expression was hard and unforgiving. Of course it was. If it wasn't for her, he might have woken up in the ruins of Nirvana on his own and escaped captivity. If it wasn't for her, he might be free.

He sneered and turned back around to follow Piper. The dice wizard gave her a shrug as if to say, "you brought this on yourself, Dreamy." She felt a stab of guilt in her chest. It was too late to undo her choices, however. Master was right. She had to face the consequences. Midnight's hatred toward her was destined to be one of those consequences. Along with Piper's frustration and the new stress of playing guardian to a member of Oracion Seis.

She let out a long sigh and turned in the opposite direction to leave out the main doors. Her fingers went to the wound on her shoulder, just another reminder of her decisions.

"Thanks for the entertainment, babe." Bixlow waved at her with a gaudy grin while she left. "I haven't had this much fun on guard duty in a while."

"Goodnight, Bix." she said, the exhaustion showing in her voice.

"Tell Mira I said hey," he called after her.

"Okay."

She walked out into the moonlight, in front of the guild hall wondering how this was going to play out. What was the extent of the consequences she would face for bringing an assassin to Fairy Tail? It was too much to think about tonight. Her thoughts drifted instead to the long black hair and pink eyes and rosy cheeks waiting for her at home. There was renewed vigor in her step as she descended the steps from the guild hall, setting aside the issue of Midnight for the time being.

"Syllestra, I'm home."


	9. Control The Mood

**Chapter 9: Control The Mood**

Three nights had gone by since Dreamer brought Midnight to the guild. Things were still tense, between not just herself and Midnight, but Piper as well. Midnight rarely ventured outside of the room he shared with the other man. Dreamer suspected that he slept during the day and paced the halls of the dormitory at night.

There were a few consolations, at least. For one, Freed's enchantments were certainly working—proven by the time Midnight tried to sneak out of Piper's window before dawn, just to be thrown backward by purple script. He still had a bandage on his cheek after that incident. The magic limiter seemed to be effective as well—tested by another incident where Piper chucked an empty beer mug at him and Midnight attempted to reflect it… and failed. He still had a black-eye from that, too. In fact, he was looking pretty worse for wear, but that was to be expected when a wizard lost magical energy. Magical energy is a wizard's life force—their very soul. Dreamer couldn't imagine struggling through life without it.

She'd also told Jezran about what had happened. They were a team, after all. He uttered multiple "oh dear me's," but was generally supportive of Dreamer's choices. He had always been particularly gentle with Dreamer, and of his own free will. She'd never manipulated his feelings with her magic.

It was midday now, and she was resting at one of the tables in the main room of the guild hall, near the bar. Jezran sat beside her, making her a sandwich, with a mustached smile painted on his face. Piper sat across the table… All the way at the other end.

"You know; you don't have to give me the cold shoulder forever!" she yelled down to him.

"Sorry, Dreamy. Can't hear ya." He yawned in mock carelessness.

"If you can't hear me, why'd you respond?!"

Piper's face flushed red and he turned dramatically away from her with crossed arms. She sighed.

"Have no fear, miss Cumula," Jezran said as he slathered gratuitous amounts of mustard on her bread. "Dear me, you know how he is. He can't stay angry at you for long. I don't know how anyone could, dear me."

Dreamer's cheeks took a pink color. "It's my magic that puts people at ease, not me." She carefully batted away the compliment and bowed her head in thanks when he passed the lunch plate to her.

"Your magic is part of who you are, my dear," Jezran took off his top hat and placed it affectionately on her head. "And on the contrary, you are a remarkable young woman, with or without your magical energy, dear me."

She tugged his top hat down over her ears in embarrassment. Her focus turned to eating her sandwich, when someone slid onto the bench beside her. She looked up in surprise to find Lucy Heartfilia smiling vibrantly at her.

"Hi, Dreamer! I'm not sure we've been properly introduced." She was cheerful and kind. Hair in a signature side-pony. "I know we've been in the same guild, but we've never really talked. I'm Lucy."

Dreamer bowed her head and smiled right back. "I know who you are. You're the amazing celestial wizard. Natsu's partner."

The blonde blushed and twirled her hair. "Well, I don't know about amazing…" Her voice betrayed the false humility. Dreamer laughed and relaxed.

"I was thinking," Lucy continued. "You and I should hang out and get to know each other. I think we'd probably be good friends."

Dreamer nodded enthusiastically. "I think that would be fun."

"Great! How about we go get dinner tonight?" She crossed her legs and propped herself up a bit more on the table, causing blue earrings to sway. "There's this cute little restaurant where I like to go to write sometimes. The food is cheap but really good."

Dreamer finished chewing a bite of her sandwich and then shook her head. "Sorry, tonight won't work for me. Mirajane and I already have plans."

"Mira?" Lucy blinked and put her finger to her chin in thought. "Oh, that's right! You two are roommates, aren't you?"

Dreamer grinned and nodded. Jezran poured her a glass of milk, which she drank absentmindedly, as if she was totally used to his butler-like treatment. "She and I share a little house in the southeast sector of town."

"You haven't heard the rumors that they're dating?" Cana plopped down on the bench across from them, next to Piper. "Nice hat, by the way."

Dreamer flushed and sweatdropped. "It's not like that, no matter what anyone says."

"How did you two end up living together?" Lucy asked, still curious.

"I can answer that!" Mirajane herself joined them at the table. It was becoming quite the party at table 12. "But first, where have you been, Dreamer?"

Dreamer looked over at the white-haired woman in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I've hardly seen you the past few days! Ever since you got home from that job!"

Dreamer raised an eyebrow and mindlessly ate a cookie that had magically appeared on her plate, beside three more little sandwiches which were really just bread slathered with mustard. "Mirajane, we live together. You literally see me every night."

"I know that, silly! But during the day at the guild hall! Usually you're out in the garden!"

Realization dawned on Dreamer and she looked nervously at the table. She couldn't tell them she'd spent most of the past couple of days in Piper and Midnight's room, supervising the dark wizard—or in the library, doing extensive research on the Oracion Seis, reflector magic, and illusions.

"Are you seeing someone?" Mira asked with a cheeky grin. Across the table, Piper spit out his water.

"What?!" Dreamer blushed fiercely. "No, Mira! You'd be the first one to know if I was dating someone!"

"Actually, dear me, I would likely be the first to know," Jezran said, matter-of-factly as he wiped his hands on a handkerchief. "I do keep close tabs on you."

"It's true. Nothing gets by Jezzie," Cana chimed in. She casually slid her beer mug away from Piper, who'd been slyly reaching for it after the 'are you seeing someone' comment.

Mira continued to try and probe the information out of a harassed Dreamer, while Jezran supplied food, Piper pouted, Cana chugged, and Lucy watched in muted interest. Dreamer was on the verge of getting up and walking away when Natsu's voice came from nearby.

"Hey Luce! I gotta ask you somethin'!" He pounced on the table and sniffed the air. His winged blue comrade hovered behind him.

"What?!" Lucy asked, annoyed. She didn't even glance up at him, instead rolled her eyes at his presence.

"You smell anything weird around here lately?" He sniffed again, eyes narrowed in deep concentration.

"Why are you asking me?!" She yelled. "You're the freak who tracks scents!"

"I swear, man…" Natsu folded his arms over his chest and frowned. "I keep smellin' something. It's familiar but I just can't place it…"

"Natsu's been complaining for two days about it," Happy 'whispered' to the table.

"Well, don't ask me!" Lucy said, without yelling this time.

"What about you, child?" Another flying white cat said to a blue-haired girl. Dreamer realized she still didn't know their names. She'd never seen them before Master sent her out to the Worth Woodsea. From what she'd overheard around the hall, the girl was a sky-dragon slayer who helped the coalition on Nirvana.

"Um… I'm sorry. I'm still new here. I'm not used to what everyone smells like… I'm sorry," the girl apologized profusely, simultaneously bowing her head and wringing her hands.

"It's like…" Natsu sniffed again. "Like… What's that stuff you drink before bed, Lucy?"

"Chamomile?" Lucy asked. "WAIT! How do you know I drink tea before bed?!"

"Yeah, chamomile…" He sniffed and tapped his fingers on his arm.

 _Chamomile…_ Dreamer gulped. She had a little bit of an idea whose scent Natsu might be picking up. She glanced up to catch Piper glaring at her. He had an eyebrow raised as if to challenge her.

"Chamomile… and… the closet of a dusty old lady-"

"How do you even know what that smells like…"

"…And something else… Smells kinda metallic. Like blood." He nodded, satisfied with his analysis. "Dammit, I know I've smelled it somewhere before!" His teeth and fists clenched in frustration.

Piper's glare intensified.

Dreamer suddenly got a strange sense, like the air had gotten denser. She recognized this dark feeling instantly. She didn't have a nose like Natsu, but she could pick up on strong emotions with ease. And this particular emotion had become very familiar in the past week. Fear and rage…

She looked up instinctively to the second floor of the guild hall. She couldn't see him in the shadow of the pillar he leaned against, but she could see the glint of red eyes.

"You know, Dreamy, you's gonna have to tell them sometime." Piper said loudly. He scratched the shaved side of his hair and kept his eyes narrowed at her.

"Tell us what?" Lucy asked. She tilted her head curiously and her blonde ponytail bobbed.

Dreamer shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"I mean, it's not like you can hide the guy forever," Piper continued. Dreamer sent him a frantic look, begging him to shut up. "What was that shit Master said 'bout facin' the consequences of your actions or something?"

Jezran placed a hand on Dreamer's shoulder. "That is quite enough, Piper."

"What's he talking about, Dereck?" Happy asked, one blue ear twitching.

"Dreamer," said everyone at the table.

"It _ain't_ enough!" Piper stood up and slammed his palms on the table. "You's don't t'ink Natsu's team oughta know? After what he done to 'em?"

All eyes fell on Dreamer. She felt like she was shrinking. She wished she could shrink completely and hide under Jezran's top hat. Did anyone have the magic ability to make her the size of an ant?

Natsu jumped off the table and looked wide-eyed at Dreamer. Before he could open his mouth however, a new voice echoed over the group.

"I'm curious to know about this as well."

Chills ran down Dreamer's spine as the deep, female voice seemed to penetrate her very soul.

"E-Erza…" Dreamer squeaked, too terrified to look behind her at the terrifying woman. Even Piper's fists loosened. He shot Dreamer an apologetic glance, as if he hadn't intended for his confrontational attitude to draw _her_ into the conversation.

"Well?" Erza demanded. "What is it you're hiding, Dreamer?" The requip mage's armor clanked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Dreamer didn't answer. She tried desperately to think of some kind of excuse. Reflexively, without thinking, she looked back up at the second floor, where Midnight had taken a step out of the shadows. He watched them all with his arms crossed, a faint smirk on his lips.

She quickly looked away and swallowed hard. She prayed that no one noticed her behavior—but, of course, Titania Erza was a woman who didn't miss much. She immediately looked up where Dreamer had been looking.

"Impossible!" She put her hand on the hilt of her sword and immediately jumped into a defensive stance.

"Huh?" Natsu looked up as well. In fact, everyone in the nearby vicinity followed her eyes up to the balcony of the second floor. "Hey, wait a second! Isn't that the sleepyhead?!"

"Seriously, you can do better than that, Natsu," Happy said, mocking the tame insult.

"It's Midnight," Erza said. She gritted her teeth and summoned another sword. "What is he doing in our guild hall?!"

"No wait, please!" Dreamer jumped up. "I can explain!"

The commotion was drawing the attention of the rest of the hall, who all began to look at Dreamer, Erza and Natsu, and up at Midnight.

"Hey, bastard! Get down here and fight! You're the one who hurt, Erza, aren't you?! Now I remember that scent! It's been you this whole time?! How long have you been in our guild hall?!"

Midnight didn't move. His smirk simply widened.

"Please, you guys don't understand!" Dreamer petitioned them again. She looked desperately at Piper for help. His mouth was turned in a guilty frown, but he did not come to her aid.

"Everyone, get out of the way!" Erza ordered the rest of the hall. People scattered, confused but not about to argue with a direct order from the queen of fairies.

"No, don't! He can't hurt you!" Dreamer's voice became even more panicked. She knew the magic limiter lacryma was still clasped around Midnight's ankle. He wouldn't even be able to defend himself if they attacked.

If Midnight was worried about that, he didn't show it. Despite the limiter, or the injuries he still sported to remind him of it, his expression was smug as ever, taunting the two powerful wizards.

Dreamer had to think fast. Natsu's fist was engulfed in flame. Erza requipped into her Heaven's Wheel Armor. Both wizards launched off of the ground simultaneously toward the second floor.

"NO!" She jumped in front of them in desperation. They dropped down in front of her, skidding to a halt so they wouldn't trample her, their eyes wide in surprise and anger.

She cast her pink eyes upon them both, activating the magic circles in her own irises. She felt it, their combined fury and concern. The power of Erza's emotional desire to protect her guildmates. The fire of Natsu's excitement at the prospect of battle and getting revenge. These two wizards had strong emotions, and the task of controlling both of them at the same time was almost too much for Dreamer. She forced her magical energy out and continued to flick her gaze between the two of them. She focused on draining the strong feelings out of them and replacing them with a sense of calm.

 _Relaxation. Calm. Clearheaded. Patience. Trust._

Dreamer recited words in her head, conjuring up gentle emotions and pressing them upon Erza and Natsu. The two worked up wizards suddenly relaxed. Erza's armor requipped back. Natsu's flames died. Their muscles loosened, heart rates slowed. They stared at Dreamer's eyes.

"Wow…" Lucy uttered from the table. "So _that's_ what Dreamer can do."

"Yes, quite useful in times like these, dear me."

"But why's she defending that freak?!" Happy asked. Sometime since Erza had come into the situation, he'd ducked behind Lucy to hide.

"Please," Dreamer said quietly, her breath shallow from the strain of controlling so many powerful feelings. "I brought him here. He's my responsibility. Any punishment you want to give him… Give it to me, instead. I'll take it all! All your pain and hatred, just please! Don't hurt him!" Tears shimmered in her eyes.

The people watching all gaped in surprise. Piper had seen enough. He snapped his mouth shut and turned away, striding out of the room without a glance back. Dreamer looked at his shoulders for a brief moment, but she didn't have time to worry about him at the moment. She appealed to Natsu and Erza once more. Her arms were outstretched defensively, as if she could possibly bar them from attacking Midnight if they wanted to.

"…Does Master know about this?" Erza asked, her voice was firm, but incredibly calm.

"Yes." Dreamer nodded. She couldn't control the tears that streamed down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. "Erza, Natsu… I know Macbeth and his friends hurt you… I know he deserves your righteous anger, but I'm begging you… Take it out on me, instead!"

The room was silent for a long, tense moment. The only sound was Dreamer's ragged breaths.

"That won't be necessary." Midnight finally spoke up. His voice was low and smooth, drifting down from the second floor like a curtain of moonlight. "Anything you want to throw at me… Bring it on. I'd love to taste some of that Fairy Tail power once more." He licked his lips.

"Macbeth…" Dreamer looked up at him. Was he really challenging them out of some kind of sick, narcissistic desire? No… Midnight knew he couldn't stand a chance against them with limited magical power. And even from here, he looked sickly from the lack of energy. So why…? Was he really looking forward to being beat down by Erza and Natsu, out of some masochistic fetish? Or could it be that he spoke up when she told them she'd take his punishment… in order to protect her?

Erza sheathed her sword. "If this arrangement is something that Master is aware of, then I cannot question it. However, I will be speaking with him at once on this matter." She looked back at Dreamer. "Release your charm, Dreamer. I will remain calm."

Dreamer looked uncertainly at Natsu, who was acting dazed.

"Man, I feel funny. Like I don't even wanna fight anyone. I think I'll just sleep…"

"What have you done with Natsu!" Happy cried out, shaking the pink-haired boy.

"I will not let him attack Midnight," Erza promised. "Given that Midnight brings no harm upon any member of this guild."

"He won't," Dreamer said quickly.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Midnight cooed, ever so helpfully, from above.

Erza glared up at him. "Remember that I am your superior, Midnight of the Oracion Seis. I have beaten you once, and I practiced mercy. Should you bring harm to any of my comrades again, I will kill you."

"Oooh, so scary." Midnight's smirk widened into a grin.

"Stop talking!" Dreamer shouted up at him.

Erza looked at Dreamer again. "The charm."

Dreamer nodded and closed her eyes, releasing the spell's grip on Natsu. It had already been released from Erza as soon as she realized Dreamer had cast it. She was lucky Erza was much more levelheaded than Natsu Dragneel.

Natsu swayed on his feet and then shook his head. "Hey! That's right! I'm pissed off!" He tensed again. "Come down here and get a piece of me, ya girly lookin' punk!"

"You can still do better than that, Natsu.," Happy said.

"Natsu." Erza clasped a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. "Stay away from Midnight for now. We will find out exactly what is going on once we speak to Master. Until then, let Dreamer manage her _friend._ "

The way she said 'friend' suggested insult. Erza clearly could not imagine a member of the Oracion Seis as a friend of Fairy Tail. Truthfully, neither could Dreamer. She hardly thought of Midnight as a friend. He was dangerous, and while he had potential for good, she was no fool. But… She wondered for a brief moment if eventually… If he lived up to his potential… If maybe they _would_ become friends.

 _That won't be necessary._

Had he really been standing up for her?

"Everyone, get back to work!" Erza yelled at the room. "There's nothing to see here!" She gave one last threatening look up at Midnight before dragging a flailing Natsu out of the guild hall.

"No fair! I wanna kick his butt! You had all the fun on Nirvana! Now it's my turn to show the bastard a lesson! Lemme go, Erza, come on!" His cries continued until the door shut behind them.

Dreamer finally released a long breath. She closed her eyes and controlled the boiling emotions inside of her. Consuming the emotions of others always exhausted not only her magical energy, but her own emotional stability as well. When she opened her eyes, she felt the stares of everyone upon her.

"You've got some explaining to do, *hic*" Cana said with a raised eyebrow.

"I will, but first…" She looked up at the second floor. Midnight was gone. "I need to…" She swayed, feeling lightheaded. She felt Jezran's arms circle around her.

"Thanks, Pops…" Dreamer looked up at him and her voice trembled.

"Dear me, get some rest. I will quell the curiosities of the crowd."

Dreamer tipped down his top hat—still on her head—in a salute. "You're… the best."

"Team Derelict Heart," Jezran smiled warmly. "We _are_ still a team. Do not forget, dear me."

Dreamer nodded and closed her eyes. It was hard to remember they were a team with the way Piper had been acting. And she wondered if she still deserved to be on a team with the two of them after making the choice to bring Midnight to the guild.

That choice… How long was she going to regret it?


	10. Midnight, Cookies, and Milk

**A/N: Hey guys, I know I'm posting this chapter a day early, but I realized that Sunday may not be the best time to post... I mean, who wants to read fanfics when the Walking Dead is on? XD Actually, since I know some of you work and others are in school and etc. what day of the week works best for you for me to post new chapters?**

 **I also just want to thank you guys who are reading this story! I was really worried about it slipping under the rug because... Well, the Oracion Seis is kind of overlooked in the Fairy Tail fandom, AND I even struggle with getting into stories about OC's, so the fact that there are so many of you that have read this far is so friggin inspiring! Every view, review, follow, and favorite encourages me to keep working on this fic, so thank you! 3 3 3**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Midnight, Cookies and Milk**

The door softly closed behind her. She released a breath and walked the hall to the living room/kitchen area of their home, where Mirajane was brewing tea in her nightgown and humming to herself.

"Did she fall asleep?" Mira asked as Dreamer came in and sat on the sofa.

"She was out before I even shut the door," Dreamer laughed in response. She stretched out and stripped her jean vest off before making herself comfortable.

"That's not surprising," Mira giggled. "It was quite an exhausting day for her." She brought Dreamer a cup of rose-honey tea on a little saucer. Dreamer bowed her head thankfully and sat the saucer down on the coffee table.

"Yeah," she agreed with a warm smile. "This is her favorite time of the year, when the animal carnival travels through town." She could still remember the first time she'd taken Syllest, nearly five years ago. The little toddler had been so overjoyed at seeing a baby panda that she nearly fell into the exhibit. Dreamer chuckled at the memory.

Mira sat on the sofa next to Dreamer and placed her own cup on the table. "It really is a shame that Piper didn't come, though. This is the first time in four years that he's missed it."

Dreamer gave a weary sigh. Her eyes fixated on the tendrils of steam rising from her porcelain teacup. "He's mad at me," she said with a sad frown.

"Because of the Midnight thing?"

Dreamer had finally explained the situation to Mira after the incident in the guild hall earlier that day. Mira was supportive as always. Piper on the other hand… Dreamer had tried to get a moment alone with him after watching him walk out of the hall when everything was going on. He'd made it very clear that he wasn't interested in talking. _Sorry, Doll. I gotta go babysit—no time to chat._

"I understand him being upset," she said. She finally picked up her cup and sipped. "But he doesn't have to take it out on _her._ "

"Oh, Dreamer, don't be silly." Mira wrapped her arms around her neck in a comforting hug. "Piper loves Syllestra. He'll make it up to her. That's the kind of person he is. He just needs time to think, that's all." She pressed her cheek warmly against Dreamer's, nearly crushing her in the embrace now. "Don't worry. Everything will go back to normal in a few days."

Dreamer smiled and returned the hug. "You're always so optimistic, Mirajane."

"Not always." Mira straightened up a bit, but continued to lean on her friend's shoulder.

 _Everything will go back to normal._

Except it wouldn't. There was no "normal" anymore. Dreamer had brought a stranger into the guild. That shook up the entire dynamic of "normal." She wasn't sure Piper would be satisfied until Midnight was gone. The thought of it all made her jaw clench in frustration.

"Mira… What if… What if I made the wrong choice?" Rescuing a member of the Oracion Seis—refusing to turn him in to the council—bringing him to Magnolia, to Fairy Tail… "If he decides to act out, I'll have put everyone in danger. All of my friends… Piper, Jezran, you… Syllest." Her hands were trembling when she tried to pick up the cup again. "If anyone gets hurt because of him, it will be all my fault."

"Don't be silly," Mira looked warmly at her. "Even if he did decide to act out, no one at Fairy Tail would let him get that far. Erza and the others already beat him once, remember? And the rest of the guild wasn't even there to help! Imagine what would happen if he tried to pick a fight with all of us."

Dreamer nodded slowly.

"But I don't think that's going to happen," Mira continued. "This isn't the first time you brought a shady stranger to the guild, after all." Her high voice was suggestive and she gave Dreamer a thick-lashed wink.

"Yeah, but Piper wasn't an assassin," Dreamer countered, knowing exactly what Mira was referring to.

"Maybe not. But no one thought he was a good guy, either. No one… except _you_." She straightened up and folded her hands in her lap. "You believed in Piper the same way you believe in Midnight now. Which is why it's kind of silly for him to be so mad at you." She giggled. "I don't think it's a bad thing that you see the good in everyone, Dreamer."

Dreamer smiled and finally relaxed a little. "You're right. Thanks Mira."

"That's what best friends are for!" Mirajane said, exuberantly. She picked up her own cup of tea and took a drink, before suddenly shrieking and spilling it all over her white nightgown.

"Are you okay?!" Dreamer jumped up. "Was the tea too hot?"

"No!" Mira lunged across the coffee table, totally ignoring the spilled tea, and picked up a folder laying there. "Freed gave this to me earlier and told me to file it and I totally forgot!" She stood up and made for the door as if she intended to run all the way to the guild hall in a see-through, soaked nightgown. "I have to file it tonight because collection comes before the guild hall opens! How could I be so stupid?!"

"Mira, wait!" Dreamer called after her. "Breathe! I'll take it to the guild hall for you, okay?"

Mirajane turned her head and looked wide-eyed at her, her hand still on the doorknob. Dreamer crossed over to her and gently placed a hand on hers. "You relax. I'm still dressed. I'll go file this for you."

"Are you sure?" Mira asked.

"Yes, I'm sure." Dreamer took the folder from her hand. "I'm feeling restless anyway. A walk would be good for me."

Mira finally let go of the doorknob and leaned back. She folded her arms over her chest and granted Dreamer a gleaming smirk. "You just want to go see Midnight!"

Dreamer blinked then scowled. "What?! Mira, no! He's restricted to the boy's dorm at night anyway, you know!"

"So, if you come back late I'll know where you've been." Mira was as innocent as she was devious.

"Oh, God, don't do this to me, Mirajane Strauss." Dreamer sweat dropped and watched as Mira began to act out a scene she was fantasizing in her head. She was throwing imaginary pebbles at a window.

"Midnight! It's me, Dreamer! Come down and dance with me in the moonlight!" She gave a dramatic twirl and grabbed Dreamer by the arm to make her dance with her. "It's so romantic!"

Dreamer pulled away, flustered. "Yeah, not gonna happen."

"Why not? I think you'd be cute together!"

"Mira! He's a member of Oracion Seis! Have you _seen_ him?" Eternal sweat drop.

"It would be so cute! He's like the night sky and you're like the moon and stars! Perfect balance!"

"I'm leaving." Dreamer groaned and opened the door while Mira continued prancing around and acting out her scene. "Besides, I thought you were still hooked on the idea of Natsu and Lucy."

"Nalu!" Mira squeaked. "They're perfect for each other, Dreamer! The other day, I saw them fighting about—"

Dreamer rolled her eyes and shut the door with a chuckle while Mirajane continued on. There was nothing that girl loved more than imagining perfect couples in a fantasy little world of hers. A week ago it was Gray and Erza. Just one of the remarkable traits of Dreamer's loveable roommate.

* * *

Tonight it was Reedus on night-shift. He was sketching to pass the time. Dreamer waved at him when she came through the doors.

"Hello, Reedus. I'm just here to file something. Which reminds me… Where do I put stuff to be picked up by collections?"

"Oui, in the mail room. Outgoing box," Reedus pointed with his paintbrush toward one of the many guild hall doors.

"Thank you so much!" Dreamer nodded and headed in that direction. If she remembered correctly, she could get to the mail room by going through the kitchen. This should only take a moment.

The guild hall was always so different at night. During the day it was constantly abuzz with activity. And the guild member numbers seemed to be multiplying by the day. At night, it was eerily silent. Some people stayed behind to finish paperwork, study, or simply to be away from home—but those people usually hung out in the library this late at night. The rest of the hall was echoingly silent. Dreamer still hadn't gotten used to the new guild hall for this reason.

She swung the folder at her side and walked toward the back of the kitchen.

He was so still that she almost didn't see him standing there, behind one of the counters. In fact, had it not been for the fact that it would be impossible to miss those blood-red eyes from a mile away, she might not have caught him watching her. It was that rouge gleam that she glimpsed in the corner of her eye that made her stop in her tracks.

"Macbeth?"

The dark wizard was standing as still as a statue, his eyes narrowed at her. It would have been a really intense, terrifying moment, if not for the fact that he was holding a glass of milk and cookies.

"What are you doing here?" Dreamer asked, gaping at him.

"What does it look like?" He snapped back. He closed the fridge door with an elbow and showed absolutely no shame in the spoils of his night raid.

"I thought Freed's enchantments kept you from leaving the dorm at night." She glanced at the glass of milk and then back up at his harsh expression.

"Don't remind me." He sneered. The purple ring of light still glowed faintly around his ankle, marking his limitations. "The rules _would_ keep me in the dormitory if that's where I was when the sun set, but your pathetic boyfriend ditched me this afternoon. Without an escort, I'm stuck here."

"He's not my boyfriend," Dreamer said quickly, not sure what made her feel the need to be so defensive.

Midnight gave a bitter smirk. "You might want to tell him that."

A long silence ensued. Dreamer was rooted to the spot, folder still clutched in her hand. She wanted to say something, but she wasn't sure what. The hard look in Midnight's eyes showed that he still felt no fondness toward her. She didn't blame him. It seemed like very few people liked her much right about now.

"Are you going to leave me alone or do you want to stand there and mock me?" He hissed finally.

"I'm not mocking you," she said.

"Oh really?" He bared his teeth and slammed the plate of cookies and the milk on the counter. "A fairy standing less than ten feet away from me, the same one who's responsible for taking away my freedom, and I'm completely powerless to kill you." He laughed without humor. "You might as well spit in my face."

Shame colored Dreamer's cheeks pink. "I'm sorry you see it that way… But, at least here you're not trapped in some little cell, right?" She said this mostly to erase some of the guilt she was feeling. "Here, you can sneak around at night for milk and cookies." She managed a teasing grin. He did not look amused.

"I'm _so_ grateful." The sarcasm was like poison.

Dreamer sighed, regretting her choice to take Mira's place. She was regretting quite a lot of things this week. Fate didn't seem to be giving her any favor.

"I'll leave you alone. I'm just dropping something off." She took a few steps under the weight of his unblinking glare. She paused and looked back at him. "Oh yeah, I forgot to thank you." She smiled as cheerily as she could and resisted the urge to use her magic on him, to make him at least a little bit more friendly. She made a silent vow to never use her magic on him again.

"Thank me?" His eyes narrowed even more.

"For standing up for me today." She fought his glare with her own calm countenance. "You knew you couldn't fight off Natsu and Erza, but you still stood up to them when I offered to take your punishment. That was kind."

He actually laughed. A bitter, mocking laugh. "You must be dreaming. I didn't do that for you. You _are_ dreaming if you think I'd ever waste my breath on you. Your friends can beat the hell out of you for all I care. I just didn't want to pass up an opportunity to taunt the mighty Titania, Erza."

Dreamer forced herself to maintain the smile. "I know you say that, but… I think, deep down, you're the kind of person who wants to defend the weak and powerless—because no one defended you when you were trapped in the Tower of Heaven."

Midnight's fist slammed hard against the wall. Pent up rage now shone in those red eyes. "Listen, _girl_. The only thing I care about is my own freedom. I enjoy the slow and painful suffering of those who are 'weak and powerless.' Those without power don't deserve to be protected! If they want freedom, they need to get stronger so that they can crush those that take it from them." His voice was impassioned, but also shaky. The rage and the fear. They always went hand in hand with this man.

"Are you going to crush me, too?" Dreamer asked. She was the one responsible for his imprisonment here. By that logic…

"Yes." He leaned over the counter toward her, baring both canines. He continued in a low, threatening voice. "There is nothing I will savor more than listening to the sweet lullaby of your screams when I finally get the chance to kill you, _Dreamer_." He spat her name out like it disgusted him.

Dreamer's smile finally faltered. She looked at the ground, sorrow eclipsing her face. Not because of his threats or his obvious hatred toward her, but because they just proved what she feared most. That Midnight might never be redeemed. He might always be trapped in those painful emotions. He might never find his freedom…

His fingers loosened when he saw the defeat in the woman across from him. Cream-colored hair draped down, covering her cherry-blossom eyes.

"I can take you to the dorm if you'd like," she offered suddenly, her voice still gentle, despite his cruel words.

"You'd still help me? Even after that?" He was incredulous. Why did she take his threats without flinching?

"Just because you're cruel, doesn't mean that I have to be," she replied, firmly.

Midnight didn't seem like he knew how to respond to that. He scoffed and turned his head. His bottom lip jutted in something like a pout. It almost made Dreamer laugh. She had a feeling he wasn't used to people responding to him with kindness. But she refused to be lured in by his hate. The chances of his redemption were slim to none, but… There was still a chance.

"No way," he said, still pouting. "I'll sleep here."

"Okay," she gave a slight giggle. "It's pretty easy for you to sleep anywhere, though, isn't it?"

"Stop smiling," he commanded. "Haven't you heard anything I said? I hate you." There was still anger on his face, but his eyes were more guarded now. Cautious.

"I know." The sadness on the corners of her smile. "But you like cookies and milk," her eyes glimmered. "Which means you can't be _that_ bad."

He rolled his eyes and picked up the plate of a mountain of cookies. "You think dark wizards only eat the flesh of our enemies or something?"

"Or something."

The air had changed between them. Dreamer knew he was still angry. And she knew that, in the heat of that rage, he probably _would_ like to kill her. But she refused to believe he was all evil. Scared and furious, and… lonely. There was an innocent child in there somewhere—a little boy who liked milk and cookies and pouted when he didn't get his way. There was hope for that little boy. There had to be.

"Now will you leave me alone?" He sneered.

"Yes." Dreamer smiled widely and headed for the door again. "Goodnight, Macbeth. Enjoy your cookies."

He didn't respond, but she knew his eyes never strayed from her until the door closed. She took a deep breath when she was away from the kitchen. She felt a mixture of relief, sorrow, and hope—a confusing combination of emotions.

Macbeth… That was the name of the boy trapped in the shell called Midnight. She wanted to set him free, so badly. But she knew she'd never be able to. Not unless he fought with her to break that shell from the inside. He had to _want_ to be free. To be really free, that is. Not the perverted idea of freedom Brain had implanted in his head.

She remembered what Mirajane had said. It wasn't a bad thing that Dreamer saw the good in everyone. It wasn't a bad thing that she saw the good in Midnight.

She hoped that one day he would see it too.


	11. Blissful Innocence

**Chapter 11: Blissful Innocence**

The cherry blossom festival was only a week away. Per the custom of things, wizards were coming home to Fairy Tail from all over Fiore in preparation to celebrate the annual vacation. Which meant that the guild hall was much busier this time of the year.

The constant chatter and activity made it easier for Midnight to fade out of general sight. It had now been almost two weeks since Dreamer brought him to Fairy Tail. The ex-member of Oracion Seis was still slinking in the darkness—and still refused to do any of the chores he was regularly assigned, but… Lately he'd been in the main hall much more often, watching the daily buzz of activity. He even wandered down from the second floor at times to sit on the sidelines of the guild floor and observe in silence. He claimed this was because he was "so bored" that he'd "almost rather be tortured by the Magic Council." He had to find something to do in the few hours he was actually awake.

As for Dreamer, she paid him daily visits, which were mostly met with cold silence and an unyielding glare; sometimes a few select words expressing his complete distaste for her. She and Piper still weren't talking much, but at least he'd started sitting next to her at the table for meals again. The blue-haired wizard hated Midnight and the feeling was mutual. When they shared the same room at night, neither slept. In fact, Piper was only catching a few hours of sleep in the afternoon, which probably contributed to his overall grumpiness.

The tension between everyone might only have lost its edge, but at least it was giving away somewhat. That gave Dreamer hope.

The guild hall was roaring with excited chatter and laughter. Afternoon sunlight illuminated Fairy Tail insignias everywhere. Arms, shoulders, waists, necks—a tongue—in all sorts of colors, showing the loyalty and love everyone in the room had for their beloved guild they called home. Well, almost everyone. There was the exception of the man leaning against the railing on the second floor, scowling at the happy guild with an air of superiority.

Lucy sat reading Sorcerer Weekly and chatting with her friend, Levy, about the upcoming festival.

"I'm so excited." Lucy said, dreamily. "This will be my first time seeing the blossoms."

Levy nodded cheerfully at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, it will be Gajeel's first time seeing them too. He'd never admit it, but I can tell he's excited." She giggled at some memory. "He's just like a kid when it comes to some things."

"Oh, I know all about that, trust me," Lucy said with a groan. She was watching Natsu dance on a table across the room with his scarf wrapped around his head and bells on his wrists. God only knew what he was doing. "How's Gajeel doing, by the way?" Lucy rested her chin on her hand and looked up from the magazine at her. "You think he's assimilated to the guild now?"

Levy thought about it. She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded slowly. "He's doing a lot better. It was hard for him at first, and he's still rough around the edges, but… At least I see him laughing and joining in on conversation with everyone else now." She gave one of the fondest smiles thinking about it. She tilted her head back and looked up at Midnight on the second floor. "You know, I feel like Midnight has a lot in common with Gajeel."

"Really?" Lucy asked, incredulous. She followed Levy's gaze up and watched the strange man stand up straight and make his way toward the stairs.

"Well, yeah, think about it." Levy watched him walk down the stairs and carefully sit at one of the tables. His red eyes glared suspiciously at anyone and everyone who dared walk too close to him. Luckily, the majority of people kept a wide berth. "Gajeel came from a guild that was Fairy Tail's enemy too. He did some really awful things before he joined us."

"Yeah, you're right… I almost forgot." Lucy thought back to the pillars of iron that had been evidence of Gajeel's role in destroying the old guild hall. Not only that, but he'd beat team Shadow Gear—Levy included—totally unconscious and then hung them from the tree in the center of town to humiliate them. Lucy could clearly remember the pain she'd been inflicted at his hands, when she was a prisoner to Phantom Lord. That felt like it was so long ago…

"No one liked him when Master let him join the guild, either. Remember how everyone threw stuff at him when he played guitar on stage? Then there was Laxus, and Jet and Droy… Piper reminds me of those two. I don't think they'll ever get along with Gajeel. And I don't think Piper will ever get along with Midnight."

"Wow… I never thought of all that." Lucy looked at Midnight in wonder. He had crossed his arms over his chest and was people-watching with an unreadable expression—something close to disgust. "I guess there are a lot of similarities."

"It's true, Phantom Lord wasn't an assassin guild," Levy added, cautiously. "I'm not sure if Gajeel has ever… you know, _killed_ anyone. But…" She sighed. "I guess I can relate to Dreamer. If she sees something good in Midnight the way that I see something in Gajeel, then maybe one day he'll be a valuable member of Fairy Tail."

"Maybe you're right," Lucy said quietly. She personally couldn't relate to the situation as well as Levy could, but she did know what it was like to care for someone even after they'd hurt you, badly. She thought of her own father. It was so strange, overwhelming even, to think of the fact that everyone in this guild had a story of their own—and some of those stories were tragic and full of hard relationships.

She continued to watch Midnight for a long moment. He was so peculiar… Unnerving, even. His skin was pale, nearly as white as Juvia's. His dual-colored hair was carefully maintained, the black portion spiked and the white underside, straightened. His dark makeup served to accentuate his harsh, red eyes. Nails perfectly painted. He probably spent as much time on his appearance as she did, if not more.

Currently, he was absentmindedly twisting the beaded part of his white hair around his finger, sharp eyes observing the activity in the room—a scowl on his lips.

Lucy tried to imagine what about this man could have possibly convinced Dreamer to take compassion on him. At the very best, he was strange and unsettling. More realistically, he was a powerful assassin who had attacked members of Fairy Tail, served under a heartless criminal, and probably murdered more people than she could count. Did Dreamer really think he could become a member of the guild, like Gajeel?

"Where is Dreamer, by the way?" she asked, realizing in her wandering thoughts that she hadn't seen the woman at all today.

"She's on a job," Levy explained. "She and Jezran left yesterday to earn some extra money before the festival, since there probably won't be any jobs to take for the rest of the week. It's always slow this time of the year."

"Why didn't Piper go with them? Aren't they a team?" Lucy caught sight of a sky-blue Mohawk a couple of tables away, with a deck of cards in front of him.

"They are, but I think Piper's in charge of keeping an eye on Midnight. You can tell he's not too happy about it." Emerald eyes shot across the room in a sharp glare, at a black-haired wizard sitting isolated near the stage.

"Is he _sleeping?_ " The last time Lucy had looked at Midnight, he was wide awake, watching the room. Now it looked like he was drooling. He had slumped against the table, head resting on his arm, a finger still twisted in his hair.

Levy laughed awkwardly. "Ha ha, it looks like it."

"I don't know how anyone could sleep with all this noise."

"Ah yeah! Fire Dragon Dance!" Natsu shook his butt on the table. Macao hooted and threw a dollar.

Sweat drops, followed by laughter.

"You can't help but love Fairy Tail," Levy laughed.

Lucy was in the middle of agreeing when a voice rang through the guild hall.

"Romeo! Rooomeeeooo!"

Lucy didn't recognize the voice, so she turned in her seat and looked at the guild hall doors. In pranced a girl, maybe seven years old. Charcoal black hair hung all the way to her waist. She wore a navy romper with a brown string belt and diamond pattern. She had large, round eyes—thick eyelashes surrounding irises as pink as the blossoms to be celebrated a few days from now.

"Oh?" Levy sounded shocked. Lucy tensed at her surprised reaction.

"Who is that?" She asked. The girl skipped through the hall, looking for someone, with a great smile set between her rosy cheeks.

"That's Syllestra." The child's black hair whipped around her as she spun, expressive eyes searching the faces in the crowd. "She's Dreamer's daughter."

" _Daughter_?" Lucy's jaw dropped. She had no idea Dreamer had a child. She didn't look like she could have been too much older than Lucy—maybe Erza's age? There was no way she was older than 20... How old would she have to have been to have a daughter this age?

"I had no idea," she said in amazement. She could see it now. Syllestra and Dreamer had the same eyes.

"Not many people know about it," Levy said. "And only Piper, Jezran, Mira, and the Master know the whole story. I do know that Dreamer doesn't talk about her much, and she almost _never_ comes to the guild hall." Which is why it was strange to see the girl climbing up on a bench now, to scan the crowd for Macao's son. She stood on her tiptoes in little brown sandals and put her hand over her eyes to shield nonexistent sunlight.

"I wonder why…" Lucy cocked her head curiously, her author brain mulling over a thousand different possibilities.

Syllestra surveyed the crowd with her little hands on her hips and a frown on her face. Finally, her pink eyes stopped. Her eyelashes fluttered and lips parted. Her cheeks took on a deeper shade of pink. She stared wide-eyed at a figure in the crowd.

"It's you…"

The little girl, without warning, leaped off of the bench and ran. With a final hop, she landed roughly onto the lap of none other than the infamous ex-dark wizard… Midnight.

"Macbeth!" she squealed in girlish joy.

The guild hall had fallen instantly silent. Midnight was no longer asleep. He was leaned back, body rigid as one of Gajeel's iron rods. His red eyes were retracted until they were hardly more than beads in completely flabbergasted eyes. The only movement in the entire room, was the swaying of the magenta beads fastened to the white part of his hair.

"You're him, aren't you!" The girl had absolutely no sense of concern about her. In fact, her smile was wider than ever. She threw her arms around Midnight's neck and squeezed him in a tight hug. The dumbfounded man gritted his teeth at the motion, but didn't react other than that. It was as if he was too stunned to move.

"My mom's told me all about you! You were a bad guy, but not anymore, right? That means we can be friends! That's what happened with my uncle, Piper. He was a bad guy too, but Mom made him a good guy and now he's my family! That's why I wanted to meet you, because you'll be my family, too, right? But for now, we can be friends. I don't have a lot of friends because Mom doesn't let me go out much—except Romeo, he's my friend. We go to school together—have you seen him, by the way? I need to give him something but he wasn't in school so I thought he'd be here and—You really _do_ look like a girl, just like Mom said! That's okay, though—there's that guy, Master Bob with Blue Pegasus, and I think he's a girl, but everyone says—"

The child talked as fast as a magic vehicle on full power. The only sound in the entire guild hall was her unending sentence, perforated with excited squeaks and dramatic gestures. Midnight's teeth remained gritted and his expression was that of a harassed man who had absolutely no idea how to respond to this direct violation of space. Now she was commenting on his skull earrings while tugging on one, at the same time petting the fur collar of his vest.

"Alright, kiddo!" Piper to the rescue. He scooped the girl up in his arms and made a few quick strides away from Midnight, forcing distance between them. "Time to go."

The dark wizard's eyes lingered on the girl, his lip trembling from some unknown emotion.

"Uncle Piper!" Syllest exclaimed, already forgetting Midnight. She ran her fingers through the long part of Piper's hair and then squeezed his neck. He chuckled and ruffled her hair.

"Hey, ya little rascal. I t'ought your mom told ya to stay away from the guild hall," he chastised. "Ya better have a good reason for disobeyin,' ya hear?"

"I do!" She dug in her pocket and pulled out a tiny Natsu figurine. "See!"

"Hey, it's me!" Natsu was still standing on a nearby table, frozen in a dance pose.

Piper ignored the interjection and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, so?"

Syllestra blushed deeply and hid her eyes behind a curtain of black hair. "It's for Romeo, for his birthday…"

"Aw, why didn't ya just say so?" Piper planted a kiss on her forehead. "I coulda took you's to him myself!"

"Really?! Oh, look! I made this, too! Wanna see, wanna see?" She reached back into the loose pocket of her romper and pulled out a pink diamond rose, tiny enough to fit in the palm of her hand.

Piper reached out and touched it with his pinky, outlining the perfect shape of the petals. "You make this? With your magic?" he asked, with muted amazement.

"Yeah, but don't tell Mom!" She stared seriously at him.

"You got it, kiddo." He closed her fingers around the small creation. "Long as you promise not to hang out around here. _And…_ " He glanced over his shoulder at Midnight, who was just barely regaining some composure. "You stay away from that guy, alright? I don't know what crap your mom's been feedin' ya, but he ain't a good guy. He ain't nothing like me, got it? He's bad news, so don't talk to 'im."

Midnight's eyes narrowed. He stood and gave a dramatic yawn, as if he were utterly bored with watching this exchange. He plunged his hands into his pockets and strode back up the stairs, purposely stomping his boots on the stone floor just slightly. He slouched his shoulders, showing disinterest, never once looking back at Syllest or Piper—only tugging on an earring as he faded back into the darkness.

Syllest watched him walk away with a confused expression. Before she could open her mouth to argue with Piper however…

"Syllestra?" Another child's voice called out.

"Romeo!" Syllest squirmed out of Piper's hold and booked it across the room to the boy, who was shaking and blushing at the sight of her.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" He asked. There were some chuckles and someone elbowed Macao's side suggestively at the sight of the two kids.

"Happy birthday, Romeo!" She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cherry red cheek.

"A-ah! S-Syllest! Didn't I tell ya not to… you know… k-kiss me?"

"He loooooves her!" Happy flew over the two of them.

"Tada! I got you presents!" Syllest presented her gifts to Romeo. He took them with shaking hands, but finally smiled widely, albeit still awkwardly. He laughed and threw his arms around Syllest, returning her hug. The young girl's cheeks took some color as well. Giggling and chuckling all around.

"Ha ha, well…" Levy wiped her forehead, "crisis averted."

"You're not kidding…" Lucy looked up at the darkness of the second floor, but Midnight was nowhere to be seen. "That could have been bad."

"I don't think so," Levy argued. "Like I said, I think he's a lot like Gajeel. And I don't think he'd ever hurt a kid. I was more worried about Dreamer walking in at the wrong moment. She's scary when it comes to Syllest!"

Lucy wasn't so sure about Midnight not hurting a kid, and obviously neither was Piper. The wizard may have been smiling warmly at Syllest, but his shoulders were tight as a coil ready to spring.

It didn't take long for the hall to fall back into the previous state of laughter and drinking, the exchange with Midnight and Syllest forgotten. Piper let Romeo and Syllest play together, but he watched over them like a hawk now, his eyes occasionally darting to the stairs to check for any perceived threat. He sighed and pinched his eyebrows together to ward off a headache.

"Dreamy…" he muttered. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Syllestra Cumula. The girl in a blue romper, showing Romeo how the Natsu figurine could shoot plastic fireballs. Hair of a raven, flowing out around her like a cloak. Eyes of pink diamond, matching the cherry blossom eyes of Dreamer Cumula.

A heart of blissful innocence.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, Monday seems to work best for people, so I'm going back to posting every Monday! Thank you for your feedback and reviews!**

 **And I just wanted to do a little shout out to lili91! I really appreciate that you left a review even though it was difficult outside of your native language! Don't worry, I understood everything you said and I appreciate your encouragement! (Even if you don't like Piper. ;)**

 **Thank you for supporting my fic, all of you!**


	12. The Black Diamond Rose

**Chapter 12: The Black Diamond Rose**

It was a personal office and library. A cozy den with book shelves lining the left wall, a grand, stained-glass window overlooking the town, positioned behind a mahogany desk. The glossy wood, coupled with the miniature jeweled sculpture on the desk, suggested wealth. Behind the desk sat a middle-aged man with chubby cheeks and a nervous disposition. His younger, blonde-haired wife stood at his side, hands clasped in front of her. Facing them, standing in front of the desk, were two Fairy Tail wizards.

The one on the left was a young woman with hair the color of salted caramel ice cream, that barely brushed her shoulders in length. Her eyes were pink as blossoms in the spring. She wore black leggings that were torn in places—whether intentionally or as a result of the mission she'd just completed, wasn't clear. A loosely hanging white blouse covered a green tank.

Her companion was an older man with a white streaked mustache. He wore a formal brown suit and polished dress shoes, and a green tie that matched the woman's undershirt. His clothes looked perfectly pressed, despite the fact that he too had just completed a job. Hanging from his pocket was the golden chain of a pocket watch, which seemed to conflict with the fact that he was also wearing a wrist watch. He held a brown top hat in front of him, respectfully removed from his slicked back black hair, with a single white streak.

Dreamer and Jezran bowed before the couple that had hired them.

"Thank you so much," the chubby man repeated for the fifth time. "I would have never been able to persuade those thugs to give me my property back. Your magic is amazing, miss."

Dreamer shook her head humbly. "It was Jezran who did most of the work."

"I disagree," Jezran said, humbly. "I merely tracked the thugs, dear me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to need an extra day to do the job. I really should have a bigger reward for you…" The man looked shamefully at his desk. Jezran's wrist watch ticked in the following moment of silence. The Fairy Tail wizards shook their heads.

"There's no need for that, sir." She smiled warmly at their employer. "It's our duty to help the people of Magnolia. The original price is more than enough."

"Indeed, dear me."

"Still…" The man looked at his wife. They shared an imperceptible emotion. She nodded slightly at him, wringing her hands nervously, and he opened the drawer of his desk. "Please, take this as an extra award for doing this for us. It's not jules, but it might be of some value to you." He pulled out an object and held it out to them. There was just the tiniest of trembles in his fingertips.

The look between the man and his wife had sparked suspicion in Dreamer. She focused her magic and detected confusing emotions coming from both of them. A moment ago, she had felt sincere happiness emanating from this man, but now… She felt fear and… guilt?

She stood up straight and crossed the room to take the object in the man's hands. She stopped suddenly when her eyes rested on it, a lump forming in her throat.

"Where did you get that?" Her voice was no more than a whisper, eyes glued to the object.

A diamond in the shape of a rose. As black as a starless sky.

"I… It was an inherited family artifact."

It didn't take magic to know that the man was lying. His voice was somewhat hoarse and shaky, and he glanced yet again to his wife, who was now wringing her hands hard enough to turn the skin red.

Dreamer began to shake, tears welled in her eyes. "This wasn't just some job, was it?" Her voice was high, raised in something like panic. "Who put you up to this?" Never once did she look away from the black diamond rose offering in the man's palm.

He looked at his wife. She looked quickly away.

"Who!" Dreamer slammed her palms on the desk, muscles taught and shaking. "You have to tell me! Did you see his face?! Did he tell you why?" She was screaming now, cold tears streaming down her face. Her expression was deranged—desperate.

"I… we… I'm sorry." The man shook his head as he leaned instinctively away from the wild woman. He was still holding the diamond out to her. "I'm sorry we deceived you… We got a letter in the mail with a large sum of money and _this_ … It had specific instructions… Please, I… We…"

"What did the letter say?! Where is it? Who sent it!" She leaned farther over the desk, as if she was planning to spring at the chubby faced employer. She was beginning to hyperventilate.

"That is enough, dear Dreamer." Jezran's arms closed around her. "Thank you for your generous reward." He bowed his head at the couple as he tugged her by the waist away from the desk. "We will be taking our leave now."

"NO! I have to know!" Dreamer struggled in his grip, nails digging into the glossy surface of the desk, but he remained firm.

"Dear, these people know nothing. It is time for us to part, dear me."

"Please, take the diamond with you!" The man jutted it forward again.

Dreamer ripped out of Jezran's grip and turned her back on the couple. Her shaking had not subsided—nor the steady stream of tears.

"I don't want that trash," she hissed. "If I were you, I'd go dump it in the ocean. Let's go, Pops." She started for the door.

"W-What about your reward?" the wife asked, frantically.

"We don't want your money, either! Keep it!" She ran through the door, face in her hands. Jezran remained for only a moment to bow politely at the couple and utter an apology on behalf of her behavior. He then followed after her.

"Dreamer!" He called out once they were outside. She was still running, her tears splattering onto the sidewalk behind her. "You must remain calm! Please, your magic!"

She could feel the magic welling inside of her, spurred by her own strong emotions. She had to control them. If she didn't… the result could be catastrophic. So, she stopped in her tracks and held her face in her hands, weeping. Jezran caught up and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Sweet child, you must breathe. Dear me, you must breathe."

She tried. She took a long, shaking breath. Then another. Then, she turned around and buried her face in the old man's chest. He accepted her embrace immediately.

"It was him, Pops! It was him…" He tears soaked into the fabric of his brown suit.

"Hush, hush. We do not know that for sure, dear." He stroked her hair.

"Yes, we do." She clutched onto him for dear life. Like a child might cling to her grandfather. "What does he want? Why now?"

"Child, listen to me." Jezran pushed her back by the shoulders and levelly met her eyes. His permanently gentle face was uncharacteristically stern. "You must control your fear. You are safe. Both you and Syllestra are safe. Remember, you have all of Fairy Tail to protect you. You have myself and Piper and miss Mirajane. We will not allow any harm to befall either of you." There was passion in his tone. "Your fear is unwarranted. Should this incident mean anything, which it may not—dear me—then we will take it in stride. I assure you, my dear, you are safe."

Dreamer trembled and hiccupped as she gained control of her tears. Her tears gave way to quiet sobs and then shaky sighs. She looked up at his kind face. The wrinkles that creased at the corners of his eyes and mouth, showing that he was a man who smiled often in his long life. His white streaked mustache mounted a gentle smile, even now. She remembered when she met him, on an icy cold night in the dark of an alleyway. She was only fifteen-years-old then, with no family besides Syllest. Then came along Jezran Excalibur, and ever since, he'd become something like a grandfather to her.

"I love you, Pops," she whispered.

"Oh, dear me…" He closed his eyes in a sweet smile and cupped her cheek. "And I you, dear child."

She wiped her eyes and looked up at the sky. Colorful leaves drifted on a breeze that didn't care about what happened to the people it blew over. A calm, uncaring breeze.

"Please don't tell Piper about this," she said, referring to the incident with their employers. "You know how he is. He'll go looking for him."

"Of course, my dear. On my honor." He took off his top hat and bowed. When he righted himself, he looked at the golden wristwatch and checked the time. "Speaking of which, I am sure the lad will be expecting us."

Dreamer nodded. She took hold of her emotions and set them aside for now. She reminded herself over and over that Jezran was right. She and Syllestra were safe. Much safer now in Fairy Tail than they had ever been.

"Forget these things, Dreamer. This week is a week of celebration." He gestured at the petal filled sky. In only a few days, the Rainbow Sakura Festival would take place. "I want to see you happy."

She gave him a forced smile. "I am happy, Pops."

"I do not believe you, dear me." He pinched his eyebrows together. "You make me age faster than I already have…" His eyes twinkled, mustache rose as he smiled. "If happiness cannot be achieved, then at least peace. This war of pride between you and Piper will come to a halt on the day of the festival, do you understand me?" Clearly he hadn't missed the fact that things were tense between the two of them ever since she brought Midnight to the guild.

"Is that an order?" She asked.

"I would like to see my family behave as a family for a few hours. Dear me, is that so much to ask?"

 _Family_. Dreamer, Syllest, Piper, Jezran, and Mirajane. There was no better word for it. They really were a family.

"No, it's not." Dreamer smiled softly and finally turned away from him to keep walking. Back to the guild hall, sadly without the reward money she'd been hoping for.

"Perhaps you should invite young master, Macbeth to join us on the day of the festival," he said suddenly behind her, falling into step.

"Macbeth?" She glanced over her shoulder in surprise. "I'm not sure he would be up for that." She thought back to when she caught him getting cookies in the kitchen.

 _Haven't you heard a word I said? I hate you._

Those words still stung. She still had no idea if bringing him to Fairy Tail had been the right thing to do, and she definitely didn't think he'd want to celebrate the Rainbow Sakura Festival with _her_.

"You will never know unless you ask," Jezran said with all the wisdom of an old sage.

"I'll _ask_. But it's definitely not going to encourage Piper to behave like family, you know." She could just picture it. _I ain't doin' it, Dreamy! I'd rather never step into a casino for the rest of my life!_

"The lad must learn that you are fully capable of making your own choices and choosing who you spend time with," he said firmly. "For as loyal as he is, he can be quite a pest, dear me."

"Pops!" She laughed and rolled her eyes.

"It is true, dear me."

She tried to think ahead to the festival and not about what had taken place today. An afternoon with Jezran, Piper, Syllest, and maybe even Midnight… As strange as that combination of people seemed, the thought of all of them together did make her feel a little better. She might have to use her magic on Piper to get him to chill out, though.

She took several more deep breaths as she walked. She thought of rainbow hued cherry blossoms and the faces of the people she loved. She had nothing to be afraid of. Jezran was right, Fairy Tail and Team Derelict Heart would keep her and Syllest safe. There was no doubt about it. All she needed to worry about was enjoying the festivities in the upcoming week with her beloved _family_ , and maybe Midnight, too. She told herself she could do that. She could focus on the good things—family and friends, festivals and color, Fairy Tail and laughter…

But, in the back of her mind—looming and waiting to spring forward—was the ever-present image of a black diamond rose.

* * *

 **A/N: Awww, you guys are so great! Your reviews make my days, seriously! I so greatly appreciate those of you who review weekly, along with those of you who pop in after "lurking" for a while. ;) The encouragement I get from every single one of you, makes all the difference when I face writer's block or uncertainty about this fic. Thank you, from the deepest part of my heart.  
**

 **Also, howlingwolvesonfire, I HAD to look up that song you mentioned in your review. I love pairing music with my work, and that song is literally perfect for Midnight in this fic. Seriously, anyone who's interested, the song is " _Mind Machine_ " by Jellyrox. "Send me a dream" "I've fallen asleep to dark melodies." *faints* So perfect. Don't worry, Midnight, I'll send you a Dream, alright. ;D**


	13. The Rainbow Sakura Festival

**A/N: Happy Thanksgiving, friends! To celebrate the holiday and show all of you how thankful I am for your continued support, I've decided to post for you today! Please enjoy! This is one of my favorite chapters, and I hope it will be one of yours too!**

* * *

 **Chapter 13: The Rainbow Sakura Festival**

The day of the Hanami festival, also known as the Rainbow Sakura Festival, finally arrived. Rainbow colored blossoms drifted serenely over the city of Magnolia. The members of Fairy Tail had just concluded their annual bingo game. The party was still in full swing, however. The tables had been moved aside to allow for a dance party while singers and other acts took the stage. Gajeel sang smooth jazz, to the applause of a random group of fangirls. An ice sculpture—courtesy of Gray—depicted the famous Rainbow Sakura tree surrounded by an array of delicious sweets and treats. Alcohol was, of course, in almost every mug and Cana had already started beer pong and body shots.

"Dammit!" Piper stared sadly at his bingo card for the eighth time. "I win every year! Nobody's got better luck than me! I even rolled the dice to check my odds! What the hell?!"

Dreamer giggled at his side. "It's not fair if no one else gets to win, Piper."

"You's don't get it, Dreamy! I never lose when it comes to a gamble, you know that!"

She just laughed again. Her cheeks were rosy with the excitement of the day. She was so happy that she and Piper were getting along again. It seemed like he was willing to put their differences aside for the day of the festival, just like Jezran wanted. And she had set aside her worries for the time being, too. She would deal with the black diamond incident after the guild got back into the swing of things. For now… she just wanted to enjoy the time she had with her friends.

"I'm sure you'll survive," she said, elbowing his ribs.

"What if I'm losin' my luck, Dreamy?" He sighed dramatically and threw an arm around her shoulder, leaning on her. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, get over it." She gave him a light shove off of her. For the briefest of instances, there was a spark of rejection in his green eyes. No, there was definitely no time for that. She quickly changed subject. "Come one, let's go outside and look at the blossoms. Jezran already went to get Syllest."

"Sounds good." They started for a side door, but Dreamer turned at the staircase and started walking up. "Hey, whatchou doin,' doll?" He stopped in his tracks and looked after her.

"I'm getting him," she responded casually.

Piper groaned audibly. "Dreamy, wait a sec, will ya?"

She withheld a sigh and stopped halfway up the staircase to face him. "Piper, we already talked about this."

"I knows that, but…" There was desperation in his eyes. She knew, if she reached out with her magic, she would feel his heavy longing—confused sorrow and frustration. "Can't it just be the four of us, like always?"

She felt a painful squeeze in her chest, like her heart was twisting up. "Piper… If no one reaches out to him, he's never going to accept who he really is."

"Why's it gotta be your responsibility? Ain't you's got enough on your plate?"

"It's my responsibility because I'm the one who brought him here—and because no one else is going to do it. Everyone feels the same way you do. I'm the only one who cares."

"You care about that freak, huh?" His tone was accusing, though it was obvious he was trying to control himself.

"Piper, please… I don't want to do this right now."

He sighed heavily and hooked his thumbs on his spiked belt. "Alright. Can't say's I didn't try. I'll play nice." He gave her a genuine smile. "See you outside, doll."

She smiled and nodded, a wave of relief washing over her, then continued up the stairs.

"Where are you, Macbeth…?" She walked along the wall, searching for him. Eventually, she found him sitting in a corner, legs crossed, arms folded, head drooped as he slept.

She watched him for a moment. The black part of his long hair hid his face—all but his black-painted lips. Actually… If she looked close enough, she could see that they were a dark tint of violet, not quite black. His red Oracion Seis tattoo stuck out against all the dark that he wore. He still seemed to sport it proudly, showing no shame when Fairy Tail members glared at it when they walked by.

It was obvious that he was having nightmares again. The slight tremble in his shoulders, barely perceptible unless you watched closely. The occasional twitch of a finger, as he fought some unknown force in the darkness of his own mind. She was tempted to reach out again, to press her fingers against his temples and delve inside. What horrors would she experience? Could she take them from him? Could she grant him peaceful sleep for one night?

She briskly shook her head. She'd sworn not to use her magic on him again without permission. Instead, she knelt down next to him and whispered. "Macbeth. Wake up, Macbeth."

He was unresponsive. She reached up and brushed a few strands of dark hair away from his eye. "Macbeth, it's me, Dreamer. Wake up, please."

His eyes jolted open. He snatched her wrist in an instant, his grip crushing. She gasped and stared back into his hazy eyes. They were clouded over, as if he was still asleep—as if he couldn't register where he was or who she was.

"Don't abandon me," he muttered, his voice strained and confused. "Don't go."

She knew he wasn't seeing her, but the weight of his pleading eyes and the husky desperation in his voice made her feel lightheaded and warm. "Hey," she forced a laugh. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm just trying to wake you up."

He blinked several times and finally seemed to register what was happening. He scowled in disgust and tossed her wrist away from him. _There_ was the Midnight she knew.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

She smiled brightly at him. "I want you to come watch the rainbow blossoms with me."

His eyes widened and then narrowed in suspicion. "You can't be serious."

"Of course I am," she giggled. "I'm always serious."

He scoffed and sharply looked away from her, causing his magenta hair beads to sway. "In case you forgot, I'm a prisoner." He gestured at the glowing purple script around his ankle. "I'm not allowed to leave my _cell._ "

"It's okay. I already talked to Master. He's willing to let you go outside because it's a special occasion. You'll still have the magic limiter on, but I guess if you wanted to run away, you could."

"How generous," he drawled sarcastically.

"Have you ever seen the Rainbow Sakura blossoms fall? It's one of the most beautiful sights in all of Fiore."

"Get away from me." He glanced at her, but kept his head turned to the side. She realized she was still knelt down, leaning close—having forgotten that Midnight had a very large personal space bubble. She stood up and took two steps back.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to, but I would like it if you were there." That was as much pleading as she would do. No magical persuasion. She wanted him to make a choice on his own.

"I don't care what you would like," he reminded her sharply. But he stood up at last and dusted off his yellow pants. "I guess anything would be better than listening to all this noise." He made a disgusted face at the lower floor of the guild hall. Dreamer chose not to argue that he was perfectly content with sleeping despite "all this noise."

She smiled and began walking back downstairs without looking back to see if he was following. She knew he was by the sound of his boots dragging on the hardwood floor. She held the door open for him and held an open palm out to world beyond.

"Don't act stupid," he shot at her while he walked by. Was that a tinge of red on his cheeks—could he be pouting at her act of kindness? She gave a giddy laugh and followed him out.

"Come on, there's a hill we like to sit on to watch the tree. Every year we lay out a blanket and sit and watch the blossoms."

"We?"

She fell into step beside him. "Me, Jezran, Piper, and Syllest."

His brow furrowed and his scowl got darker. "You sure you want me around your boyfriend?"

Dreamer sighed. "Again, he's not my boyfriend. And he promised to play nice today. I want you to play nice, too."

He smirked. "I'm not nice."

"I know, but… Pretend?"

"I can't guarantee I won't kill him for fun, make you watch, and then leave this hell-hole of a town."

His threat fell on deaf ears. Dreamer only laughed.

"It wasn't a joke!" he snapped, the pout returning.

"Right, right." She smiled warmly.

Up ahead was the grassy hill that overlooked the tree. There was no mistaking the blue hair, or the top hat standing there. At the bottom of the hill, long black hair followed a skipping girl. Dreamer glanced over at Midnight, feeling nervous for the first real time since her choice to bring him outside. She was almost certain that he wouldn't cause any harm, that he was all bark and no bite, but…

 _Syllest._

Piper had already told her about what happened in the guild hall when she and Jezran were on their job. At first, she'd been furious. Then terrified. What if Midnight had connections to _him_ somehow? What if his seeing Syllest put her in danger?

It had taken a lot of convincing from Jezran and Mirajane to make her believe that her paranoia was misplaced. Later, Dreamer had been approached by Levy, who told her about the incident from a different point of view. How Midnight hadn't displayed any ill will toward Syllestra at all. How surprised he'd been. How he'd tugged on the earring she'd been touching when he walked away.

 _He won't hurt her. He wouldn't hurt a child_.

She tried to convince herself. Honestly, she had no idea whether that was true or not. She had no idea what sort of people he'd been tasked to kill as an assassin. Men? Women? …Children? But she had to believe that even if he tried, Syllestra would be safe. She had Piper and Jezran with her, and all the members of Fairy Tail were nearby. It would be okay.

"Hi, guys!" she waved her hand when they got close enough. Jezran bowed low. Piper's eyes narrowed at the sight of Midnight, but he gave a quick wave in response.

A large blanket had already been laid on the grass. Jezran had prepared small sandwiches to be shared. Dreamer sat on the blanket and motioned for Midnight to do the same. He looked at her like he'd rather die, and stood a good ten feet away from the blanket with his arms folded over his chest.

Better than nothing, she supposed.

"Mom!"

Syllest ran up the hill with her arms wide open and pounced into Dreamer's lap. "Piper bought me cupcakes!"

"Oh?" Dreamer raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, kid, I told you not to tell!"

"Really sugary cupcakes," Syllest whispered.

"Oh, dear. Piper's going to be in trouble, isn't he? I'm going to have to punish him." Dreamer gave Piper a wink. He gulped and blushed before looking away awkwardly.

"Don't say things like that, Dreamy. Geez."

"Wait! No, I didn't mean—That came out wrong!"

"Mom! Macbeth came too!" Syllest's eyes went wide as saucers at the sight of Midnight standing off to the side. The man glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to tense at the sight of her—and his scowl turned into more of a guarded expression. "Mom, can I give him a hug?"

"I don't think he'd like that very much, sweetie."

"HEY MACBETH CAN I GIVE YOU A HUG?!"

Midnight tensed and simply turned his back on her. He tilted his head back and watched the blossoms float off of the rainbow tree.

"Heh heh, he's cute," Syllest cooed. "Oh! Can I run with Romeo and that blue-haired girl and that flying cat?" She pointed at the base of the tree.

"Go ahead. And make sure you collect lots of blossoms."

The adults watched in silence as the children played down below. The evening hues of the sky lit up the floating petals, making the rainbow-colored blossoms seem to glimmer. The breeze was warm and stirred up the petals just enough to allow their gentle dance to linger on. Dreamer chatted quietly with Piper and Jezran. Piper occasionally glanced at Midnight's back with a dark expression, but said nothing about or to him. Instead, they talked and laughed about festivals past.

"There was that time, dear me, when Laxus tripped over the great root."

"He was so embarrassed!"

"Yeah. Broke 'is nose too, poor guy. The best part was when he zapped Natsu for laughin' at him though."

They all laughed in agreement. The sun set behind the mountains and the stars began to twinkle above. It was so serene.

Dreamer stood up. "I'll be back," she promised, before walking across the hill to where Midnight was standing. "What do you think?"

"If this is what you fairies think is entertainment, then maybe I'll call the Council to pick me up myself."

"You could leave, you know." She opened her arms. "There are no enchantments out here. I'm sure you could find someone who would break the enchantment on your ankle, too. You could take your chances out there—try to outrun the Magic Council. If you think that's where your freedom lies, then you should go."

He looked at her with startled expression, as if he couldn't believe she was serious.

"I won't stop you, if you really think you'll find what you're looking for out there. I'm sure someone will call the Council right away, but it won't be me. You'll have a head start."

He gritted his teeth and huffed slightly. "…There's no point," he said slowly. "My guildmates have already been captured. I've already been defeated by your mighty Titania," he spat her name with bitter distaste. "I'm a failure. I lost the right to search for my own freedom."

Dreamer was surprised at this unusual display of emotion. He hadn't been so open with her since he was under her persuasion in the hospital.

"Then stay," she said simply.

He said nothing. Didn't even scoff. His eyes lingered on the branches of the tree. They crept downward, following the falling petals, then rested on a head of long, black hair. Dreamer caught him looking at Syllest. It made her uncomfortable. There was no ill intent in his red eyes, but she didn't understand why there wasn't disgust or hatred in them either.

"So," he said suddenly, "did you sleep around as a teenager, or were you raped?"

Dreamer nearly choked. "E-Excuse me?!"

He shoved his hands into his pockets and continued to watch Syllest play. Piper had rolled down the hill at her beckon and was now chasing the children and pretending to be a monster.

"There's no way you're much older than me," Midnight said. "Which means you would have had the kid as a teenager. Young teenager, most likely."

Dreamer rubbed her arms, an unconscious reaction to the confrontation. She didn't answer, which seemed to spur him on even more. He glanced at her with a gleam in his eye.

"Which is it?" His voice was demanding and gave away a hint of amusement. He liked that he'd struck a chord.

"What do you think?" Dreamer asked, cautiously. She watched Syllest too. That flowing black hair…

"There's no way you were sleeping around," he said.

"What makes you say that?" Her voice was void of emotion.

"You?" He laughed, actually laughed, out loud. "You're perfect." He said the word like it was poisonous. "A flawless little angel raised in a world of light. You've never done anything wrong in your entire good-girl existence." His words could almost be flattering, if they weren't dripping with animosity.

"That's not true," she argued in barely a whisper. She had done wrong. She had done things she could never take back—things that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Syllestra's beautiful and innocent face was a constant reminder of that.

"It must be the alternative, then," she shrugged.

"Liar." His voice was lower, his smirk wider. "That's never happened to you either."

"Oh?" She narrowed her eyes, the frustration beginning to show. "What makes you so sure?"

"You don't have the look in your eyes."

Dreamer eyed him cautiously. Her grip around her own arms and chest was tightening. "Do you know a lot about things like that, Midnight?" She used his false name. His assassin name.

He finally looked her straight on. He cocked his head slightly to the left and smirked. "Would it scare you if I did?" His voice was hardly above a whisper now. "If you knew I'd committed atrocities like that, would you finally believe that I'll never be redeemed? Would you get over your hero complex and call the Council on me?" He grinned. "Maybe I have."

Dreamer felt her shoulders relax. She looked away from the sadistic gleam in his dilated eyes and back down at the tree. "You've never done something like that to someone."

His smirk faltered. "What makes you so sure?" He repeated her question.

"Your magic gives you away," she said, coolly. "Magic is a reflection of who we are. It's essentially a physical manifestation of our very souls." The breeze picked up and swirled pink petals through her cream-colored hair. "You can tell a lot about a person by the type of magic they use. And you… You use reflector and illusion magic. They enable you to attack from a distance and also defend you against attacks. That's because you don't like people touching you, right?"

The way his jaw clenched in anger verified her guess.

"And, while it's true that you enjoy watching people suffer, you like to do it from far away. Like an innocent observer. Like a child who could hear the screams of people around him while he was trapped in a little cell, and who was forced to watch as friends and strangers were tortured. The distance makes you feel safe. In fact… If I had to guess, I'd say you've _never_ hurt or killed anyone with your bare hands."

His jaw was clenched as tight as possible, his face slightly flushed. The air between them was tense. He finally relaxed just a bit, and the smirk returned to his lips.

"The girl's not your daughter."

A particularly strong breeze blew against them.

"That's absurd," Dreamer scoffed. "Of course she's my daughter. Are you blind?" The same pink, unsteadying eyes.

He stared unblinkingly at her. There was a sense of victory about him. He was confident in his conclusion. "It's more likely that she's your sister."

Panic rose in Dreamer's throat. She swallowed it down. She matched his steady stare and raised an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"

His lips curled into a cruel grin. He leaned forward, surprisingly close to her. When he spoke, his voice was hardly more than a breath on her ear. "No stretch marks," he said.

Dreamer's eyes opened wide and her face felt instantly hot. Midnight straightened upright to watch her expression, an evil glint in his eyes—smug victory about him.

"W-wh… How do you know?" She _always_ wore vests and leggings, for the very purpose of hiding the places such marks would be if she had them. "Just how closely have you been watching me?!"

He simply smirked and turned away. "Finally, some entertainment."

"Tormenting me is entertainment, huh?" She huffed.

He pointedly did not answer her, so she finally sighed in defeat. The sky overhead was now a dark shade of blue and alight with stars. Dreamer looked up at them in silence.

"She's my niece."

Midnight looked at Syllest again. She was riding on Piper's shoulders, wearing Jezran's top hat, and reaching for a bundle of blossoms on a lower branch of the tree.

"My sister… died just after she was born. I've raised her ever since, so, as far as she knows, I _am_ her mom."

"That makes more sense," he nodded in understanding. His eyes seemed to darken for a moment, as if he were remembering something from his own life.

A few more minutes stretched on before Dreamer started down the hill. She looked back over her shoulder and urged Midnight to follow her. "Let's get a closer look."

"Not interested," he said. He crossed his arms back over his chest and stayed rooted to the spot.

"Okay." Dreamer shrugged and sprinted down the hill toward the others, leaving Midnight there.

"Mom! I touched the tree!"

"Man, she's gettin' too heavy to carry around like that," Piper complained and cracked his neck.

"I'm not fat!"

"Nobody said you were, kiddo!"

"Mom, is Macbeth your boyfriend?"

"What?!" She and Piper said simultaneously.

"Romeo's dad said you need a boyfriend because you're too upright."

"Uptight," Jezran corrected.

"Oh, did he really?"

Macao was slinking away on the other side of the tree.

"Hey, Macao! You got something you wanna say to me?" Dreamer started after him.

"Sorry, Dana, gotta run!"

"It's DREAMER!"

"Hey, Jezzy?" Syllest pulled on his suit sleeve. "What's Natsu doing?"

"Oh, dear me, it appears that he's… digging up the Sakura tree…"

The pink-haired fire breather wiped sweat from his brow and leaned against a shovel. "Hey, Piper! Give me and Happy a hand here, will ya? We gotta dig up this tree for Lucy!"

Piper looked at him and gave a shrug. "Ah, sure. What the hell." He took a second shovel from Natsu and got to work.

Midnight stood atop the hill by himself, watching the chaos below. He looked over at the trees swaying in the wind. There were no enchantments. Nothing to stop him from walking away right now. The band around his ankle glowed faintly, but threatening someone to undo the enchantment would be easy. Freedom was only about a hundred yards away.

Freedom.

He looked back down at the little girl dancing with the old man. She reminded him of a child he'd seen long ago, before even the Tower of Heaven. Black hair and an innocent, ignorant look of hope. The same expression he once saw in his own reflection, countless years ago.

His eyes trailed up past the tree, to the girl's "mother." Dreamer. He couldn't help the scowl that drew across his face. It was her fault he was here. It was her detestable faith in him that had gotten him bound to Fairy Tail.

He hated her. And yet…

For some reason, he didn't walk into the forest that night.


	14. The Surprise Concert!

**A/N: Alright, guys. So, this chapter is solely filler. When I wrote this fic, I wanted to follow the theme and style of the Fairy Tail anime, so I added some silly filler chapters, fluff, and stuff that doesn't necessarily relate to the main plotline. You are not required to read this chapter, but if you're in the mood for some laughs, please do! I'll also let you guys know each time I post a filler. Thank you for your support of my Midnight Fic!**

* * *

 **Chapter 14: The Surprise Concert!**

No matter how many people she asked, or how many times she went back to the scene of her job with Jezran, Dreamer couldn't dig up any more information about the black diamond. In fact, the couple that had hired Derelict Heart was no longer even around. The house was abandoned. It didn't make sense. She racked her brains thinking about it. She expected _him_ to make a move any day. He must be planning something… But days stretched on without any other sign or word of the man responsible for the black diamond.

She, Jezran, and Piper had begun to take normal jobs again. Master had loosened the supervision restrictions on Midnight. As long as he was in the guild hall, he wasn't required to have constant surveillance. So, finally, Team Derelict Heart was able to work as a three-person unit once more, which definitely seemed to help with Piper's attitude.

And as for Midnight… He had finally begun doing chores for the guild. He would never admit it, and vehemently denied it anytime Dreamer asked about it; but she couldn't help but notice that the railings no longer had dust, the weeds weren't overgrown in the garden, and the windows were looking exceptionally clear these days. He still rolled his eyes when she tried to give him a new task, but she noticed that those tasks were mysteriously being completed by _someone._ It was no surprise—she imagined he got bored sitting around and sleeping all the time.

He was also making more of an appearance in the guild. He still secluded himself away from everyone, but he would occasionally interject a snide remark into a conversation, accept food from Mirajane, and also seemed to enjoy sitting up front whenever a concert was happening.

Currently, he was at a table by himself, arms crossed, watching the guild members. Dreamer sat with Natsu's group, since she'd already been shooed away from him once today. The guild was full of activity, per the norm.

On the edge of the stage, Gajeel Redfox was sitting, eating a bologna sandwich, watching the Fairy Tail members in much the same fashion as Midnight. He felt eyes boring into his skull, and looked to find Midnight staring at him from a bench. He tried to ignore him, opting for focusing on eating his sandwich and watching Levy read across the room—but he couldn't shake the eerie feeling of red eyes on him.

Just as Gajeel was starting to get irritated, Midnight casually climbed onto the stage, a few feet away from him. He crossed his legs and sat there, silently, creating an awkward air between them.

A few seconds ticked by. Midnight was still staring, which was even creepier now.

"Got somethin' you wanna say to me?" Gajeel snapped. He'd never talked to this guy before, and didn't know much about him except that Master Jose had requested the services of the Oracion Seis a couple of times, to cover some crimes he'd committed. Phantom Lord hadn't been a dark guild, but there toward the end, they might as well have been. Either way, there was no telling what was going on in the freak's head at the moment.

Midnight cut his eyes sideways at Gajeel and stared harder, still not speaking.

"You're creepy as hell, you know that?" Gajeel shrugged his shoulders and took another bite of his sandwich. "If you acted normal, this guild might actually accept you."

"I don't want to be accepted by this pathetic guild," Midnight said under his breath.

"Hey, watch it. This is my guild too, you know." Gajeel's voice was threatening. The reflector mage smirked slightly.

Another awkward silence fell between them. Gajeel was getting sick of it real fast. He'd lost his appetite already. He was about to stand and walk off when Midnight finally spoke up.

"You… play guitar."

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, I do. _And_ I've got a damn good singing voice. But why do you care?"

Midnight didn't answer, instead looking away finally, his cheeks seeming to take a slight shade of pink.

Gajeel blinked. Was this guy _blushing_?

He narrowed his eyes and suddenly jumped off the stage to stand right in front of Midnight. He folded his arms over his chest and looked hard at him. The dual-haired wizard leaned back in surprise at the closeness, eyes flickering with some fear, painted lips parting nervously.

"Wait a sec… Do I know you from somewhere?" Gajeel narrowed his eyes more, thinking. He leaned forward.

"Doubtful," Midnight answered, instinctively leaning back and clearing his throat, as if trying to play cool.

"No, I know I've seen you before. And not from when I was with Phantom…" He tapped his fingers on the stage. There was something about him… "The lipstick, the creepy ass eyes, the hair… THAT'S IT!" He slammed a fist victoriously on the stage as the realization struck him.

Midnight grimaced at the loud outburst. "Why are you fairies so loud?"

"You!" Gajeel's face lit up, the studs in his skin seemed to catch light. "I've seen you perform before!"

Midnight quickly looked away. He scooted backward on the stage, away from the bigger man. "Tch. You must be dreaming."

"No, I'm sure it was you!" He pointed accusingly at him, a wide, fanged smirk stretching across his cheeks.

Gajeel's loud voice was drawing onlookers. Including a curious Dreamer. She leaned back in mid-conversation with Gray and Lucy, to look at Midnight on the stage. His lips were pinched tightly, face flushed, as if he were being highly harassed by the iron-dragon slayer looming in front of him.

"It was in a shady bar in Denizen Town!" Gajeel exclaimed.

"Nice to know he's spent time in shady bars…" Levy muttered, watching the conversation. It was clear she wasn't talking about Midnight.

"You're thinking of someone else." Midnight's cheeks still seemed to retain some color. He scurried to his feet and started to slink away, but Gajeel climbed onstage, grabbed him by the choker collar, and pulled him back.

"No way." He looked Midnight over again, "You've got the goth boy-band look. I definitely remember. You had some big blocky guy as a backup singer, with a real high opera voice. He always collected tips at the end of the night. There was some pointy nosed dude who played the drum—he looked like a penguin. The bassist was a hot chick with white hair, and the lead guitarist had a creepy snake wrapped around his neck. I'm sure of it!"

Natsu's group looked back and forth at each other. It sounded like Gajeel was talking about the members of Oracion Seis, for sure.

"He's a performer, Dreamer?" Lucy asked.

Dreamer's cheeks took some color. "How should I know? He hasn't said anything to me about it!"

Midnight's arms tightened around his chest. "…It was for a job," he said nonchalantly, finally admitting to it. "We were getting close to the bar owner so we could find a target. No big deal."

"No big deal? Yeah right." Gajeel laughed out loud. "Lead singer of a kickass band and he says it's no big deal."

"Lead singer?" Everyone sitting at Dreamer's table spoke up simultaneously.

Gajeel's grin seemed to grow wider and wider, eyes gleaming like an excited child. "That why you asked if I can play guitar? You wanna put on a show with me?"

"In your dreams!" Midnight snapped back. He flailed in Gajeel's firm grip on his collar.

"Aw come on, I'm your biggest fan!"

"Yeah, I remember you," Midnight scoffed. "You're the idiot who got drunk and tried to kidnap Cubellios."

"I did that?" Gajeel chuckled, remembering some nights from his apparent past. "Come on, man! Let's give Fairy Tail some real entertainment!" He yanked Midnight to center-stage and slammed a microphone stand in front of him.

"Woohoo! Go Macbeth!" Dreamer cheered from the gathering audience.

"Go Gajeel!" Levy cheered next to her.

The lights in the guild hall dimmed as if on cue, spotlights on the stage. The tables were quickly moved out of the way to create a floor for the audience.

"Bixlow! Get your ass up here, we need a drummer!" Gajeel ordered.

"You got it, baby!" A tattooed tongue lolled out of his mouth as he appeared on stage behind a random drum-set.

Midnight scowled, as rigid as a board in front of the crowd.

"Can anyone play bass?!"

"I'm not putting on a performance for you losers," Midnight hissed, but nobody seemed to be listening.

"Wakaba can do it!"

"Man, I haven't played bass for years, Macao…"

"Get up there!"

Gajeel was suddenly wearing his sunglasses, hair slicked back, sporting a red electric guitar. He took left-stage, up front with Midnight.

Natsu stood in the crowd with his arms crossed. "No way that jerk can sing!"

"Get off the stage!" Gray yelled.

"Be nice!" Lucy elbowed him in the ribs and gestured toward Dreamer, whose hands were clasped in front of her, eyes wide toward the stage, in awe.

"Don't let 'em get you down, Midnight," Gajeel said. "Same thing happened to me when I first joined the guild. You gotta blow 'em away and they'll change their tune real fast, trust me."

Midnight glanced at Gajeel, then at the band, then at the audience. Dreamer waved her hands frantically and cheered. "You can do it!" He caught sight of her pink eyes and a sudden wave of confidence rolled over him.

"I saw what you did there," Levy whispered next to her. "I thought you weren't going to use your magic on him."

Dreamer blushed. "It's a special occasion…"

Gajeel began to strum the guitar. Bixlow picked up a beat. Wakaba introduced a throbbing bass. Midnight closed his eyes and clutched the microphone. The music jammed on behind him and he didn't move an inch. After a few moments, the crowd grew restless.

"Did he fall asleep?" Mirajane asked.

"Wake up and be a real man!" Elfman shouted.

Someone threw a tomato.

Lucy smacked Natsu in the back of the head.

Suddenly, Midnight's eyes shot open, gleaming red and serious. He clutched the mic in both hands, tensed, and began to sing. Or rather… _scream._

Jaws dropped. Along with mugs of beer.

"H-He screams metal?!" Dreamer shouted over the ear-shattering sound.

"Sounds like it!" Levy shouted back.

A sound like grating metal, demon roaring, and explosions was making the walls shake.

Natsu's jaw dropped and then he started jumping up and down. "Woo! It sounds like Igneel's roar!"

"Weren't you just insulting him?" Gray shouted.

"Wow! So manly!" Elfman raised a fist to the sky.

"I didn't know humans could make sounds like that!"

"This makes me want to punch something!"

"Bring it on, old man!"

Fists started to fly. People were tackled to the ground. Tables broke. Fires started and alcohol sloshed on the ground.

"MOSH PIT!"

"Oh my god…" Dreamer and every other woman in the crowd—save Cana—ran for the sidelines. Wild chaos ensued, egged on by the impressive vocal range of the unexpected performer in the spotlight.

"What's going on here!" The only sound that could possibly be louder than Midnight's screaming, suddenly silenced the crowd.

Erza.

She looked at the bundle of fighting people on the floor. Who all stopped at the sound of her voice. She gave Midnight a death glare. He was frozen in terror, face pale. Bixlow dropped a drumstick. It clattered loudly on the stage, echoing in the tense silence.

"Keep singing," she said in a low threat, to everyone's total surprise.

Midnight swallowed hard and glanced at Gajeel, who gave him an encouraging nod before digging into the guitar again. Taking his lead, Midnight burst into an exceptionally low, guttural roar. Immediately, Erza jumped into the center of the moshpit and punched Elfman in the face.

"Who knew Erza was into metal?" Lucy said, covering her ears, as the room exploded to life again.

Dreamer giggled, eyes drawn back to the man center-stage. His eyes scanned the crowd til he found her. It might have just been her imagination, but it seemed like after they'd made eye contact, he worked even harder to perform…

From the streets outside, Fairy Tail looked like a big thrumming house of lights.

"That Fairy Tail," a man walking his dog said with a shake of the head. "I swear, they're all insane."

"Word," said a guy walking on the other side of the street.

Insane was an understatement.


	15. You've Been Warned

**Chapter 15: You've Been Warned**

Paperwork. The part of being in a magic guild that no one ever tells you about.

Dreamer sat humming to herself and filling out a report on her last job. Everything had to be perfectly in order or Freed would make her start over. He was notorious for sending back job reports and delaying paychecks if you hadn't filled everything out to satisfaction.

"You're pretty good at tuning out all the noise," Gray Fullbuster sat at the table across from her, kicking back as casually as if he owned the place.

"You kind of have to be, in Fairy Tail," she said absentmindedly.

"Or you could go to the library like a sane person," he retorted.

"I guess I could." She shrugged and kept working, totally unfazed.

Eyes glared ferociously at Dreamer from behind a pillar nearby. Juvia was at the table in a second, leaning suggestively toward Gray.

"Gray, my sweet darling," cleavage jutted purposefully in his direction, "you shouldn't spend time around women like Desmerelda—"

"Dreamer."

"—because she uses charm magic! It would be completely unacceptable for my perfect dear to be caught in the treacherous trap of some bimbo enchantress!" She leaned even further onto the table, practically crawling toward the ice-make wizard now.

Dreamer hummed along, ignoring them.

"Actually, speaking of spending time," Gray said, leaning right past Juvia and toward Dreamer, "I was hoping you'd want to get lunch with me, D."

Juvia's jaw dropped to the ground and she began to tremble with rage.

Dreamer raised a single eyebrow, looked at Gray, and then back down at her paperwork.

"GRAY HOW COULD YOU?!" Juvia shook him like a rag doll, tears flowing out of her eyes like waterfalls. "How could you ask another woman on a date right in front of me?! This is punishment of some sort, isn't it?! Danny can't possibly be a competitor for the heart of my love!"

"Dreamer."

"Whoa, whoa, who said anything about a date?!" Gray held his hands up defensively. "I just wanted to ask her if she'd charm Freed for me so I don't have to find that old file I was supposed to give Master!"

"He asks me every time he loses paperwork," Dreamer said casually, still not glancing up. She scribbled something on a form and chewed on the end of the pencil in thought.

"Gray asked Dreamer on a date?" Mirajane suddenly appeared, ever so helpfully, and leaned over with a tray of food. "Oooh! I've never thought about that pairing before! I can see it though! Good for you, Dreamer!" She set the tray on the table and clasped her hands together in glee. "Would that be 'Graymer,' or 'Dreamay?'"

Juvia turned into a wet puddle on the floor and began to roll in fetal position, crying.

"What's this about someone askin' Dreamy on a date?" Piper's boots suddenly thudded on the table as he pounced up out of nowhere. He leaned in Gray's bubble with a terrifying gleam in his green eyes. "Wanna die, iceboy?"

"Piper, your foot." Dreamer tugged on the edge of a worksheet. He lifted his boot so she could pull it out and keep working without so much as a flinch.

"I wasn't askin' her out, dice-man!" Gray got right back in Piper's face, sparks flying between them. "I just want to talk to her!"

"Yeah, well I just wanna punch you's in the teeth!" Piper clenched a fist and held it threateningly in front of him.

Gray's jacket fluttered down onto Dreamer's head as the man stripped in preparation for battle. She tossed it to Juvia and kept working. The water user couldn't seem to decide if she was still furious or if snuggling with Gray's jacket had cured her.

Piper nimbly dodged an icy fist and leaned in close to Dreamer's ear. "Hey, Dreamy, you's doin' anything later? I gots two tickets to the theater—"

"Actually, I'll probably end up discussing finances with Freed over dinner." She tapped her pencil and leaned to the right to avoid Gray's kick toward Piper's chest.

"Speaking of Freed…" Gray cut right back in, while holding Piper by the collar away at arm's length.

The two boys were getting too far into her bubble so she leaned back with a clipboard and kept writing.

"Oooh, the plot thickens!" Mirajane squeaked. "I didn't realize Freed, Gray, Piper AND Nab were all fighting for your attention, Dreamer!"

"Nab?" The fists stopped flying for a brief moment as several pair of eyes shot to the job board where the tall dark-skinned wizard blushed deeply and ran in the opposite direction.

"He'll never ask her out, same way he'll never pick a job." Wakaba commented from the next table over, just before dodging a handful of casino chips that had been intended for Gray.

"I think you should leave Freed for Laxus though, Dreamer." Mira cocked her head to the side. "But you and Gray on a lunch date would be so cute! You should say yes! I'll watch Syllest for you!"

"Who's side you's on, Mira?!" Piper ducked under the swing of an ice hammer and stared at Mira with a look of betrayal.

"For the hundredth time, I'm not looking to date her!"

"Oh, Gray, my darling!" Hearts were in Juvia's eyes as she snuggled Gray's jacket against her chest and began to ramble about her valiant protector.

"Four hundred thousand, three hundred and eighty-two jules…" Dreamer scribbled something down as the chaos intensified.

Then…

"Dreamer."

This time, she actually looked up from the paperwork. His voice cut through the increasing clamor with ease. It demanded attention—drawling, dark, serious. Everyone stopped talking at once and turned to look at Midnight as he approached the table.

She sat the clipboard down. "Macbeth… What's up?"

He walked up and slid his thumbs into his pockets. He leaned on one foot like he was bored, but his expression was serious. He was looking directly at her, his disinterest in the rest of the room and the previous chaos very clear.

"I need you."

The world stood still. Someone sneezed. Dreamer felt her cheeks warm up despite herself, as she stared back into his consuming gaze. Her pencil clattered loudly on the table.

"Ah—what?" She blinked.

"I need company," he said, not really helping to explain what the heck was going on. "And I thought, who better than Fairy Tail's very own Sweet Dream?" His serious expression broke into that of a smirk. His red eyes gleamed, never once breaking his fixated stare.

Her cheeks were definitely hot now. Mira giggled behind her. Piper's palms slammed hard on the table. He moved protectively in front of Dreamer.

"I don't know where you's get off talkin' to Dreamy like that, but you's better slink back into your hole before you really start testin' your luck!" He had lost all interest in the ice-wizard now.

Midnight hardly paid any attention to Piper. He just rolled his eyes and sidestepped to keep Dreamer in his line of sight.

"Well? What will it be?" He cocked his head slightly, swaying magenta hair beads.

"R-right now?"

"Hey, you're gonna have to get in line, bud." Gray spoke up this time. "We all want something from Dreamer right now."

"Don't say it like that, Gray darling…" Juvia whined.

Midnight stared silently at Dreamer. He held his hand out, gesturing for her to follow him, then turned on the heel of his leather boot and started to walk away.

"Asshole," Piper said under his breath. His fists were clenched, shaking with rage.

She stood up and handed her paperwork to Mira, eyes trained on Midnight the entire time. "Can you take care of this for me, Mirajane?"

"Yes, of course!" Mira winked knowingly at Dreamer and retrieved the clipboard.

Dreamer slid off the bench and started after Midnight.

"Wait, Dreamy! You's serious? You're goin' with him?" Piper's fingers grasped at her sleeve, tugging her back. His eyes were wide, and there was a sharp sense of betrayal in the air around him—she could feel it.

She paused. She looked at Midnight's white hair being eclipsed by the shadow of the balcony, then back at Piper. Her expression was pained and apologetic. "He needs me." With those words, she pulled away from Piper's grip and followed the other man.

"Dammit, Dreamy, _I_ need you!" Piper's voice loudly called after her but she didn't turn back.

"Ah man, now I gotta face Freed by myself," Gray groaned, slumping onto the bench.

"What was that, Gray?" A smooth voice responded. Gray's eyes widened in shock. Freed stood less than ten feet away, hands clasped behind his back, eyes hard. "You wouldn't happen to have that file, would you?"

Gray jolted to his feet. "A-ah, hey Juvia! Aren't we doing that-uh-thing? Yeah, that thing, come on let's go!" He darted from the guild hall with a squealing Juvia in tow, hearts falling out of her eyes.

Dreamer picked up the pace and caught up with Midnight as he entered a side hall of the guild. "Wait, Macbeth!" She grabbed his wrist by one of the bracelets he wore. He sneered and snatched his hand harshly away from her. "Sorry," she caught her breath. "What's this about?" She knew better than to think for a second that he actually just wanted company.

"I need money," he said, not beating around the bush.

"What's that got to do with me?" She raised an eyebrow and kept pace with him.

"You didn't forget, did you?" He gestured at his ankle, still glowing purple. "How am I supposed to make money when I'm being caged up like a dog in your guild hall?"

"I still don't understand why—"

"Midnight." A strong female voice cut her off. Erza stood at the end of the hall, her expression cold and stern. Midnight stopped walking so fast that Dreamer slammed right into his back. The atmosphere of the room changed instantly. It was nearly palpable. Dreamer could feel the tension seething between the two of them. She could feel the depths of hatred and fear seeping from him, and the distrust coming from Erza. "I see. You've chosen Dreamer. I can't say I'm surprised."

"Happy now, Titania?" Midnight's voice was a low hiss.

"Hm." Erza's gaze fell on Dreamer next, who didn't realize she was clutching the fur on Midnight's vest for dear life at the sight of a pissed off Erza. "Yes, I am. I trust that, as a member of Fairy Tail, Dreamer knows where her loyalties lie. While I would have preferred to go on the job with you myself, I will respect Master's decision to give you the choice of a partner." She scanned Dreamer up and down, as if sizing her up. She put her gauntleted hands on her hips, armor catching the light from the window. "Dreamer. I expect that you will supervise Midnight's activities with due vigilance. Should he commit any kind of atrocity under your watch, you will be held accountable and be dealt with accordingly, do you understand?"

"Y-yes ma'am!" Dreamer still had no idea what was going on, but it was always best to agree with Erza anyway.

"Very well." She nodded briefly, causing her scarlet hair to brush the metal of her chest plate. "You have until dusk. If you are not back by then, I will assume you have both betrayed the Fairy Tail guild and I will personally carry out your elimination."

"I can't betray a guild I'm not a part of," Midnight said back, sassily.

"Perhaps not," Erza said. Her eyes narrowed, a dark shadow passing over her face. "But you _can_ betray a member of Fairy Tail. And since Fairy Tail itself is made of the collective spirit of its members, to betray one of us is to betray the guild in its entirety. Therefore, Midnight, if you betray the trust Dreamer has placed in you, you will face the wrath of more than just myself." Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she requipped a sword into her right hand. "Do I make myself clear?"

Midnight's tough guy act seemed to have evaporated. He was staring wide-eyed at her—at the deathly serious expression in her eyes—and he was trembling.

"DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" Her grip tightened on the hilt of the sword.

Dreamer placed a hand on his shoulder, instinctively reaching to comfort him as she would Syllest. He seemed to get ahold of himself. The shaking stopped. He shrugged Dreamer off of him and looked away from Erza with a scoff.

"Crystal clear," he said under his breath.

Erza nodded and walked past them, dismissing them officially. Chills went down their spines when she walked past. The last thing she did before walking out was to shove a piece of paper into Dreamer's palm. The door then slammed behind her.

Dreamer looked down at the crumpled paper and everything suddenly made sense. "This is a job request."

Midnight was already walking again, albeit with his lips in a bit harder line than before. Seeing Erza seemed to leave him with a bitter taste in his mouth. Dreamer thought absently that she would have loved to see their battle at Nirvana. She trudged quickly after him, reading the request.

"Your master made it clear that I'm not living here on charity," Midnight explained as they walked through a side door out of the guild—and Freed's enchantments didn't stop them. "I'm expected to pay rent with Piper." He gave a bitter laugh. "He's making me work to fund my own cell!"

"It sounds like he's making you work so you can feel like a normal person," Dreamer countered. She struggled to keep up with the pace of his boots thudding harshly on pavement as they walked onto the streets of Magnolia.

"No." His voice was hard. "It's no different than a prisoner working in the yard. I'll be forced to labor for money I won't keep, to fund a place I don't want to be, under the watch of a guard I'd like to see in a pool of her own blood." A nerve in his hand twitched.

"It's not like the Tower of Heaven," she said, guessing at his thoughts.

"Stay out of my head!" He snapped at her, black lips pulling back in a snarl.

"I don't read minds," Dreamer laughed, "that's Warren's thing. I just think I understand you, Macbeth. And right now you're thinking that Fairy Tail is like the Tower of Heaven, aren't you?"

The midday sun shone down on the unusual pair. Dreamer in a denim vest and white leggings, cream-colored hair adorned with a headband of flowers. Midnight in his fur lined black leather vest, black hair and dark makeup. Neither of them would easily be mistaken for a regular Magnolian citizens. They seemed out of place on the sidewalks of town, but neither seemed to notice or care about the stares they garnished.

"But you already know that Fairy Tail is nothing like that," she continued, as they walked along the walls of some shops. "You're not a slave here. You don't have to wonder when your next meal is going to be. You don't have to bathe in water runoff from the rain and break your back working so that someone won't hurt you." She used specific examples of things she'd seen in his dreams—his memories. "I've seen you smile in the guild hall. I've even heard you laugh with Gajeel. You don't have to pretend like—"

Cold stone collided with her back. His palms crushed her shoulders against the wall behind her, pinning her there. His face, full of fury, only centimeters from hers.

"You have some nerve." His voice was a low hiss. "You think that because you've seen one of my nightmares that you know everything about me—that you have some kind of right to tell me who you think I am." She gasped in pain as his thumbs dug harshly under her collarbone. "You don't know me." He brought his lips to her ear. His breath was cold as ice. "And you know nothing of nightmares. What you saw was just the surface of terror."

Her heart thundered in her chest. Fear gripped her throat like a vice, restricting air flow. _Don't let your emotions get out of control, Dreamer._ She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, containing the magic boiling inside of her.

"Make no mistake, Dreamer…" His hand slid along her collarbone, fingers raising to clutch her throat. "I stay with your pathetic guild because there's no other life for me. There's no freedom. And at least I am kept mildly entertained by you scurrying fairy _rats_. And _you…_ " He applied pressure, just enough to make her feel lightheaded. "You stave off my boredom most of all, _sweet Dream_. That is all you are to me—a means to stay awake, not the savior you seem to think you are."

She choked down a whimper and grasped at his hands. "Mac—"

"It's Midnight." Eyes like vortexes of boiling blood. "I won't remind you again."

All she could manage was a tiny nod, as tears welled in her eyes. Finally, his fingers loosened and he released her. The citizens of Magnolia continued along the sidewalks, completely unaware of the intensity of what had just transpired there.

As nonchalantly as if nothing had happened at all, Midnight plunged his hands into his pockets and kept walking. This time, Dreamer followed a few steps behind him. She watched his white hair sway while he walked—the breeze ruffling hair and fur.

Was she wrong about him? Was he truly evil, down to his core? Had she just gotten too cocky in her ability to read people and projected goodness onto something that was black as coal—black as midnight? Was it like he said and she was just playing savior?

She touched her throat where his fingertips had been.


	16. First Job

**Chapter 16: First Job**

The person who put in the job request was a middle aged woman with stress lines on her face. Blonde curls hung past her collarbone. She wore a purple blouse and black skirt, with some modest makeup, making her look professional.

She wrung her hands nervously while Midnight and Dreamer stood in the foyer of her house. Her eyes kept flickering uncertainly at Midnight and his emotionless face and generally intimidating appearance. In an effort to dispel the tension in the air, Dreamer used a bit of calming magic on the woman. She knew she shouldn't be interfering with Midnight's first job—that it was only her job to supervise but… A little bit of peace never hurt anyone.

"Thank you so much for taking my job request." She bowed her head toward him. "I know it's not nearly as important as some of the jobs you receive at the guild, and I can only pay you ten thousand jules… So, I really greatly appreciate your heart to help someone like me."

Midnight said absolutely nothing. He just regarded the woman with the same unfeeling red eyes as always.

"It's no problem," Dreamer spoke up quickly and bowed her head. "We love to serve the people of Magnolia. Please, tell us what we can do for you today."

The woman stopped wringing her hands and managed a small smile. "Well, you see, today I finalize the adoption of my son." Joy shimmered in brown eyes like sunshine in the forest.

"Oh! Congratulations." Dreamer smiled widely at her. "What a joyous occasion!" She swore she heard a "feh" from next to her.

"Yes. It will be the happiest day of my life. However…" She took a sharp breath and looked out the window in thought. A little yellow bird chirped happily on the windowsill. "There's a chance that the boy's biological father will show up to stop the finalization." She let out a slow breath. "Honestly, it's a slim chance. He's just a low-life thug who abandoned Liam when he was hardly old enough to walk. When I found him, he was underfed and sick… I've taken care of him ever since then."

Dreamer's heart throbbed with empathy. She clutched her hands over her chest, eyebrows knitting together as she remembered a time when she too had taken in a tiny, parent-less child. The bird on the windowsill cocked its little black head, as if it were listening to the conversation.

"Like I said, it's not likely the man will make an appearance. And even if he did, he won't be able to make it into the courthouse, but still…" The woman looked back at the two of them, her eyes brimming with tears. "I don't want this day to be anything but a celebration. My request is simply that the two of you would keep an eye on my son until the finalization is over. It shouldn't take more than two hours, at most."

Dreamer bowed her head, humbly. "Ma'am, ten thousand jules is incredibly generous for only two hours of service. We simply can't accept that amount."

Midnight cut his eyes at her. Whose job was this again? And who needed the dorm rent?

"Please, you must." The woman clasped her hands together, an act that frightened away the little bird. "You don't understand how important this is to me. This day… It means everything! My pride will not allow me to pay one jule less than that amount. In fact, were it possible, I would pay for the rest of my life, if only to ensure that I get to keep Liam as my own son."

Dreamer gasped at the passion in the woman's words. She could feel it tangibly in the air around her. _Love. Desperation. Joy. Anticipation._ There was nothing more important to this woman than the child she had taken under her wing. Dreamer knew the feeling perfectly.

She wiped a stray tear from her own cheek. "Very well, ma'am. We will gladly do this for you."

Midnight did not argue, nor speak at all.

* * *

It was just after midday in front of Magnolia's courthouse. Midnight and Dreamer sat on the steps watching children play in the park across the path. One of the scampering children was a boy about ten years old, building a fort out of sticks with his friends. He had a head of black hair and bright blue eyes. His name was Liam. Soon to be Liam Terrence, son of Elizabeth Terrence.

Midnight scoffed after several minutes of sitting in silence, watching the leaves fall in the park. "Babysitting. Is this what I've been reduced to?"

"Don't think of it like that." Dreamer rested her elbows on her knees and put her chin on her hands. "You get to be a part of changing that boy's life for the better. That's rewarding, isn't it?"

He made a sound of disgust.

A minute went by. The sound of birdsong and children's laughter in the air.

"I guess you're probably more accustomed to changing people's lives for the worst." There was sadness in her tone.

"I _am_ a living nightmare," he said in confirmation of both her words and her worries.

Silence fell between them again. She was surprised that he hadn't fallen asleep yet. Sitting still in the warm sunlight seemed like it would have been the opportune moment for him to take a nap. The day was perfectly warm and peaceful, sunny and calming. Maybe he was actually taking this job more seriously than he let on. His eyes didn't stray from Liam for a moment.

"You know… I really feel for that woman." She looked at her shoes, idly twisting a lace around her pinky. "My situation with Syllest was pretty similar. She was less than a year old when Rosy…" Her voice trailed off. "Anyway. Her dad was horrible. I was so afraid that he would come back and take her away from me. That's why I joined Fairy Tail, actually… I thought they could protect us—protect _her._ And they have." She looked back up at the puffy white clouds drifting lazily through the sky. The white seemed to reflect off of her eyes, accenting the light pink of her irises.

"Mirajane, Piper, Jezran, Master… They all look out for us. I'm still scared sometimes…" An image of a black diamond rose flashed darkly in her mind. "But I know that everything will turn out okay, as long as I have Fairy Tail there with me."

Midnight was silent, the corner of his lips turned down in a frown.

"I'm sorry…" She sighed and tugged on the shoelace. "I don't know why I told you all of that. I guess this job reminded me of it."

He still said nothing. She wasn't surprised. His mood certainly didn't seem very affable today. She noticed though, that when Liam disappeared behind a park gazebo, he stood up and folded his arms over his chest. It was cool and casual, but there was no mistaking that he'd done it to keep an eye on the boy. This made a warm feeling settle under her ribs. She recalled when she had been traveling with him through a town on the way to Magnolia, when his eyes lingered on a few children playing on the sidewalk. And then the way he softened at the sight of Syllest, even if only a bit.

"You have a soft spot for children, don't you?"

He glared at her from the corner of his eye.

"You do!" She giggled lightly. "I guess it makes sense." Maybe he was finding similarities to his own life in this job, like she was. She didn't know how he'd ended up there, but he was only a child when he was in the Tower of Heaven. Maybe he had been abandoned too. And maybe he'd seen horrible things happen to other children—to his friends—and it fostered in him a desire to protect them. She tossed her hair back and smiled at the wandering thought of Midnight valiantly protecting the weak and powerless.

Her smile broke the moment he was suddenly perched in front of her.

He leaned his face dangerously close to hers, a glaring threat in his eyes. She gasped and leaned back against the stone steps, which he countered by leaning forward and slamming his palms on either sides of the ground beside her hips, trapping her there. He saw the fear flash through her cherry-blossom pink eyes, and a smirk drew across his lips.

"You're not making assumptions about me again, are you?" His voice was a low, mocking hiss. "You couldn't possibly be laboring under the illusion that you know me, especially after I warned you this morning, could you?" He leaned even closer toward her, until she felt like she would drown in the pools of blood that were his eyes.

"N-No, Mac—" She caught the word in her throat and swallowed. "No, Midnight."

His smirk grew wider, but the threat was still evident in his eyes. "Good little dream."

He pulled back, allowing her the freedom to breathe again. His back straightened and arms folded across his chest once more as he turned his attention back to the playground.

Dreamer didn't dare say anything else to him for the rest of the time they spent there. She rubbed her arms, despite the fact that it wasn't even chilly outside.

Finally, the woman came out of the doors to the courthouse with tears pouring down her cheeks and a smile of victory painted across her face. As if sensing her presence, Liam turned and looked at her. He smiled widely too, and ran across the grass and up the steps to leap into her arms.

"Mom!" He clung to her neck. "Why are you crying?"

"Because I'm happy, son. My… son…" She sobbed into the child's shirt and squeezed him as if he was the only thing in the world that mattered to her. He probably was.

Dreamer crossed over to them, tears clinging to her own eyelashes. She knelt down next to them to talk. Midnight watched with his arms folded as the group celebrated in the glaring sunlight. He could have sworn that more light emanated from the three of them than even the sun above. And in the shadow of that light… He felt even darker.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. His gaze turned to the shadow a building nearby, where a man was crouched and watching the exchange.

Midnight was standing before him in an instant.

The disheveled man gasped and fell backward. He was dirty and unshaven, his eyes glazed and face taught and scabby from obvious drug use. His appearance made Midnight scowl in disgust. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"M-my boy… I just wanted to see my boy. My Jesse…" He looked past Midnight to the family on the courthouse steps. Midnight stepped to the side, blocking the man's view with his yellow and black pants.

"His name is Liam, and he's not your son. Not anymore."

Tears spilled from the man's hazy eyes. "Mister, jus' lemme talk to him. Please, lemme tell him I love him, just once. Let me tell him I'm sorry."

Midnight's lips turned into a wicked smile. "You don't deserve to be sorry. You're nothing more than a pathetic insect."

"Y-you shut up!" The man crawled back, a little bit further from the looming monster in front of him. "You don't know anything about it!"

"I've stomped on enough worms in my life to know one when I see it." His red eyes bore down on the man, nearly glowing in the dark of the alleyway. "Listen, pest. You'll stay away from that family and crawl back into the hole you came from. If you don't…" There was a sadistic fury in his expression, teeth bared, tongue dragging across his dark lips in anticipation. "Then I'll find you and I'll make your worst nightmares come true. You'll never sleep in peace again, not without seeing insects writhing in your skull—worms eating your worthless corpse. The fear will eat will you alive, consuming you until not even the best high can penetrate the terror you'll feel. Trust me. I'm an expert in fear."

The man gulped, horror evident in his entire body. "I-I… I just want my Jesse to be happy!"

Midnight stepped aside so that the man could see the family. Liam's hand clasped in the hand of his mother, his face beaming up at her. The woman's tender smile as she cupped the face of her adopted son. The love, the brightness shared between mother and child.

"Then stay away from him," he said. "Darkness has nothing to do with light like that." When he said this, his red eyes were fixed on cream-colored hair, and pink eyes that seemed to smile even in moments of sadness or fear.

"He… He is happy, isn't he?" The man put his face in his hands and sobbed. "A-alright, I'll leave them alone. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I'll sober up. I'll get a job and send them money when I can but I'll leave them alone… I promise, mister."

"Remember what will happen if you don't. Now flee, insect." With that, Midnight turned on the heel of his boot.

Dreamer patted Liam on the head and hugged his mother one more time. "I'm so happy for you." It was only then that she noticed the absence of her companion. "Hm? Where did he go?" She stood and scanned the park and courthouse steps, looking for a head of dual-colored hair.

Midnight came up from behind her, face expressionless and hands in his pockets. His sudden presence made the hairs on her arms rise. She glanced up and opened her mouth to speak, but saw that his attention was on Liam. He looked down at the boy and the boy looked back up at him. There was a strange moment shared between them, with an imperceptible emotion hanging in the air. Midnight's eyes widened just slightly… and then softened. He nodded briefly at the child, who smiled widely and tugged on his mom's hand.

"Let's get ice cream, mommy!"

"Okay, Liam. Anything you want, today." She squeezed his hand as they walked. "We'll go anywhere you want to go."

"What?! Really?! Like the carnival?!" He hopped two steps at a time.

"The carnival isn't in town, sweetie."

"Then can we go on a boat ride out by the…" His voice trailed off as they walked down the path, hand-in-hand, mother and son.

Dreamer looked over at Midnight with the biggest smile he'd ever seen. "It's really amazing, all the good out here in the world." Tears dripped down her glowing cheeks.

Midnight scoffed and looked up toward the sun, hands buried in his pockets. "It's bright today."

"Yeah. It really is." She smiled up at the sky with him, unaware of him looking over at her from the corner of his eye.

Looking at the sun.


	17. Everybody Loves Cake!

**A/N: FILLER! That's right, this is another silly chapter so we can ease off all the heavy stuff for minute. Thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing on this fic. It makes my day every time I get a review, and I truly value all the regulars as well as those of you who pop in to show your support. Now, enjoy a cute, hopefully hilarious scene. ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Everybody Loves Cake!**

The Fairy Tail guild hall: as rambunctious as ever. The majority of the guild members were gathered outside in front of the guild café, because the weather was so nice. The newest guild member was serving coffee and pastries with a smile. She was a chubby young woman with purple hair and a green dress. She'd been helping Mira out as a server since she joined, shortly after Team Natsu returned from the Nirvana mission and Dreamer returned with Midnight.

"There sure are a lot of people in line for coffee this morning," Gray noted as he formed an ice cube in his hand to slide into his too-hot cup of espresso.

"I'm more of a tea person myself," Erza said with a refined sip from her tea glass, pinky out.

"Forget all that! Mirajane makes the best friggin' donuts!" Natsu currently had ten of them on his plate and crumbs were shooting everywhere.

"Aye!" Happy held up a donut that had been stuffed with a fish. "She makes mine special, too!"

"That's disgusting," Carla, the white flying cat scoffed.

"You want a bite?" Happy held it in front of her face. Her nose crinkled.

"Absolutely not!"

"You can have a bite of mine, Carla." Another newer member of the guild, Wendy, held a jelly filled donut to the cat.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll be having a cup of coffee. Black. As soon as the line dissipates somewhat."

"You _would_ drink coffee," Happy said through a mouthful of crumbs and fish.

"What exactly are you inferring, cat?" Carla snapped at him.

"Oh nothing, it's just one of the amazing things about you, Carla." He had hearts in his eyes.

Team Derelict Heart was at the little table next to them. They always came out to enjoy tea in the morning. It was a habit developed from Jezran, who swore that tea and honey in the morning prevented you from getting sick.

"Dear me, I do wonder what all the fuss is about," Jezran glanced up from his teacup at the café line.

"Yeah, what the hell?" Piper nommed on a donut hole. "I only seen a line like this when we got a new import at the bar."

"I'm going to go see," Dreamer said as she stood. "May I refill your tea, good sir?" She asked Jezran.

"Yes, dear me, I would quite appreciate it." He took off his top hat and bowed his head politely before offering her his teacup.

She hummed and stood in the long line at the café. As she got closer, she heard an array of exclamations.

"Wow! This is amazing!"

"Oh my god, I don't even like sweets but I could eat three dozen of these!"

"So manly!"

"Uh, Elfman, I don't think cake is considered manly…"

"Kinana, can I have another?!"

"Well… We don't have very many left…"

"Dreamer!" Mirajane's voice called her up. "Come here!"

She blinked and looked around the line of people to the café counter. Mira was waving happily at her to come forward, her white ponytail bobbing above her forehead. Dreamer glanced at the line once more and walked up to the front.

"Hey! No fair! Why does she get to cut?!"

"Hey, Mira." Dreamer leaned on the counter. "What's going on?"

"Isn't it wonderful?!" Mira clasped her hands together in excitement. "We got some new items added to our menu and people are going crazy about it! Take a look!" She gestured to a board behind her with a list of new cakes for sale.

Dreamer tapped her fingertips on the counter and read out loud. "Cookies and cream and… does that say Darjeeling? Like the tea? What kind of flavor combination is that?"

"It's so unique and exciting, isn't it?!"

Dreamer wasn't sure she'd use those words exactly. She kept reading.

"Chocolate, chai, and… artichoke? Ew!"

"Actually, it's a surprisingly delicious combination!" Warren yelled over with a chocolaty green cake on his plate.

"Blueberry, milk, and honey… That one actually sounds edible. But it still doesn't sound like a cake flavor…"

"Why don't you try the special?" Mira leaned over the counter and gestured at a chalkboard with a cake drawn on it with the words "Dream Special." "The chef says that it's an inspired creation!"

Dreamer narrowed her eyes. It was probably a coincidence. It wasn't like her name wasn't also a word or anything…

"Sure, I'll take one." She nodded in approval. Kinana quickly disappeared into the back room and came back with a round cake on a cute little white plate. It was adorable. Delicate lemon sponge cake with pink frosting. "What's in it?" she asked, as she took the plate from Kinana.

"It's lemon, raspberry, and chili powder!"

She winced at the strange flavor combination, but… Well, with a special name so close to her own, she just HAD to taste it. She took a plastic knife and cut through the center. A squeak escaped her mouth when the center of the cake suddenly oozed a dark red liquid which she assumed was the raspberry and chili combination.

"It looks like blood, doesn't it?" Mira asked smilingly.

"Uh… yeah, thanks for the imagery…" She lifted a piece of the cake to her lips and carefully tasted it. She closed her eyes and swirled the flavor over her tongue. Then, slowly, she opened her eyes again. "Oh my god…"

"Hey, Erza!" Gray yelled. "There's a strawberry cream cheese, peppermint cake too."

The line was shoved back by Erza forcing her way to the front. "I will happily be the judge of these cakes." She had requipped into a chef's uniform. "Give me the strawberry cake at once."

"Coming right up!" Mira slid the petite pastry across the counter toward her. Erza eyed it suspiciously, took the tiniest slice, popped it into her mouth, and closed her eyes.

The air was silent. A buzzard cawed overhead. Everyone waited in mute apprehension for her verdict. And suddenly…

"Bring out the baker, immediately."

"Yes, ma'am!" Kinana ran into the backroom. She came back out and bowed low before Erza. She was followed after a long moment by none other than…

Midnight, wearing an apron, a hair net, and covered in flour.

He and Erza narrowed their eyes at each other. Every person standing nearby slowly started to inch backward. Freed was already tallying up approximate cost of damages from where he sat on a bench nearby.

"Are you the man responsible for this?" Erza asked. Her face was like unmovable steel, jaw clenched.

"That's my cake, if that's what you're asking." Midnight crossed his arms over his chest and met her glare with his own.

Another long moment passed.

Then without warning… Erza threw herself at Midnight. She crushed him in a full bodied hug, nearly popping his head off with her arms around his neck. She buried her face into his hair.

Midnight, and everyone else for that matter, looked totally stunned.

"Midnight… That was possibly the best cake… I've ever tasted."

"Is she crying?!" Natsu asked.

"Ooooh, she loooooves him!"

Dreamer threw her fork at Happy.

"It seems I had misjudged you." Erza leaned back and clasped her gauntleted hands hard on his arms. "You are a good wizard, and an excellent baker."

Midnight sneered and looked away, but he was brightly blushing.

"Well, I don't see what the big deal is," Natsu said loudly, ruining the moment. He had the rest of Dreamer's cake in his hand and was chewing thoughtfully. "This is nasty! Who puts chili powder in cake anyway?!"

"What did you say?" Midnight was suddenly right in front of him. They locked eyes, the sky growing dark above them.

"I said, this is terrible!"

"You'd better watch it, dragon slayer. I can make your worst nightmares come true." His teeth were bared, red eyes glaring.

"The joke's on you, sleepyhead! The only thing I'm scared of is your cooking!"

"You'll pay for those words, Natsu. I didn't get the chance to kick your ass on Nirvana, but now's as good a time as any." He threw his hair net on the ground and began to undo the floral-patterned apron.

"You threatenin' me, transgender freak?" Fire engulfed Natsu's fist.

"Wow, I didn't know Natsu knew a word that big!" Happy praised.

Midnight's hand began to glow with dark magic that made a strange mechanical sound. He waved his hand to smack Natsu with an invisible force, but instead of Natsu being hit at all, Midnight's entire body shook as purple electricity jolted him. He collapsed to the cobblestone with a thud, still twitching as the purple script faded. Freed 'tsked' under his breath.

"That's what he gets for trying to use magic with that ankle bracelet on," Macao commented.

"I kind of feel bad for the guy. I remember being shocked by Freed's enchantments," Wakaba said with a puff of his pipe, thinking back to the battle of Fairy Tail.

"Macbeth!" Dreamer ran to his side, afraid that he'd been hurt, just to find that he was… Sleeping.

"Oh no! Did it knock him unconscious?" Mira asked worriedly.

"No. I don't think so." Not by the way he was drooling peacefully.

"I got it." Piper groaned in frustration and knelt down to pick Midnight up. "Let's get you back to the room, bud."

"Oh dear me, they seem to have gotten closer, don't they?"

"I heard that pops! Shut the hell up! Somebody's gotta cart this lug around if we don't wanna trip on 'im!" He grunted and scooped Midnight up so that his legs were wrapped around his waist, head snuggled into Piper's chest.

"They're kind of a cute couple, aren't they?" Mira whispered to Dreamer, who blushed uncomfortably. "I ship it!"

"He loooooves him!"

"Would you STOP saying that, you imbecilic child?!" Carla smacked Happy right out of the air.

"H-hey, don't get any dumb ideas!" Piper snapped at all of them. "This is the easiest way to carry 'im when he's out like this, so shut the hell up and mind yours own business!"

Midnight mumbled unintelligibly and nuzzled against Piper's chest, much to the gambler's increasing horror.

"Tell me when he wakes up again, Piper! So I can kick his ass!" Natsu was still fired up.

"You will do no such thing." Erza was suddenly holding Natsu by the collar, a dark shadow over her eyes. "Piper, when Midnight awakes, I want you to escort him immediately to the café and instruct him to make 100 strawberry peppermint cakes, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Piper grumbled incoherently, something about this 'asshole' and 'bastard' and 'hope he never wakes up,' on his way off with the snoring Midnight.

Activities resumed shortly after. Dreamer stared grim faced at the remaining half of her cake. "So… this was inspired, huh?" The "Dream" special, made by Midnight… She didn't know whether to be flattered or terrified, given the way the viscous red jam stained the lemon cake like blood.

He probably intended for her to feel a little bit of both.


	18. Banned From Participation

**A/N: Happy Holidays for everyone who celebrates! I hope you had a great weekend!**

* * *

 **Chapter 18: Banned From Participation**

Master Makarov sat on the edge of his desk, kicking his feet like a child, with a wide smile on his face. He looked doubly silly with his orange and blue striped hat on, especially since he was tugging on its long ears in some kind of anticipation. He'd been quite giggly and happy lately, which could only mean he was up to something devious.

"You wanted to talk to us, Master?" Dreamer and Midnight stood in front of him, both in their usual attire.

She read the mood in the room. Nothing suggested that she and Midnight were in trouble. If anything, the master was giddy and distracted. Which was a relief. She and Piper had been taking turns escorting Midnight on small jobs lately, and there was about a fifty percent rate of them going horribly wrong and Midnight scaring away the employer. When Master had summoned the two of them here, she was convinced they would get a lecture. Luckily, nothing about Master Makarov's emotions suggested that this was the case.

"Do you know what time of the year it is, Dreamer?" He asked, grinning toothily.

"Um… Summer?" She watched his grin widen even more.

"It's time for the 24-hour endurance race, my child!" He practically squealed with glee.

She sweat-dropped. So that was why he was so excited. The Master had probably concocted some horrid punishment for the losers of the race this year. She cringed and looked at Midnight standing next to her. She wondered if he'd be required to race, since he wasn't "technically" a member of Fairy Tail. Without the use of magic and being as sleepy as he was, he'd get the punishment for sure.

"Wait, Master!" Her eyes lit up as realization dawned on her. "Does that mean that I'm—"

"Still banned from participation." He cut her off. She shrank in defeat, releasing an audible sigh.

Midnight made a sound that was something like an amused chuckle. "What did you do to get banned?" He raised an eyebrow at her, smirk dancing on the corner of his lips.

"I didn't know that putting the other racers to sleep and charming Master into believing I hadn't taken a shortcut were bannable offenses…" she mumbled in response.

He laughed out loud-a sharp, mocking sound. She blushed, embarrassed, and pointedly ignored him. "Okay, well if I can't participate, then why did you want us here?"

Makarov stopped kicking his legs. His face took on a more serious expression. "How long has it been since you brought this young man to the guild, Dreamer?"

She looked at Midnight again. "It's been…" She thought back. "Over a month now, Master."

Midnight's expression was guarded. Hard. She had a feeling he could remember the exact date down to the hour he'd been "trapped" here.

"Yes…" Makarov closed his eyes in thought. "Just long enough for him to get noticed by some of the more astute citizens of Magnolia." He stroked his mustache. "The Council has issued wanted posters. They've also tried just about everything they can think of to make me give them information about the two of you."

She inhaled sharply. She'd completely forgotten about the threat of the Magic Council hanging over them. Midnight was still a fugitive and Dreamer was still the person responsible for sheltering him.

"They still don't have any conclusive evidence that Midnight is here at the guild, thankfully, though it's clear they have their suspicions." He sighed. "At any rate, I think it would be best for the two of you to skip town during the race."

She blinked. Midnight narrowed his eyes.

"This race is always highly publicized," he explained. "And this particular race will be thoroughly covered by that new Sorcerer Weekly reporter. The last thing we need is for him to get wind of an ex-Oracion Seis member amongst the members of Fairy Tail."

She nodded somberly. He was right. She could imagine the headlines now: "Fairy Tail Harbors Fugitive!" "The Infamous Night Terror Turned Fairy? Has Makarov Officially Lost It?" "Scandal: Midnight of the Oracion Seis Spotted with Dreamer Cumula? Let's take a poll! Who thinks they're a couple?!" She blushed despite herself, and shook her head to make herself focus again.

"So, I'd like to ask that you leave Magnolia for a couple of nights. Just long enough for the excitement to die down." He swung his legs again.

Midnight was carefully expressionless still, leaning on one foot as if bored.

"You'll have Jezran with you," Master continued. "And you can take Syllest, unless she'd prefer to stay and cheer on Romeo, that is." He chuckled warmly. "Consider it a vacation, and a reward for you, Midnight—for the hard work you've been putting in to serve Fairy Tail."

Midnight scoffed, looking startled and enraged by the praise. "I'm not serving Fairy Tail," he said darkly.

"Whatever you say!" Master waved him off without so much as a blink. He was already tugging on his hat again.

She thought for a moment. Her eyes drifted down to Midnight's right ankle, where a faint purple glow circled the material of his boot.

"What about his magic limiter?" She looked back up at Makarov. "Are you going to take it off?"

Makarov's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Certainly not. I could never, in good conscience, send one of my children away from home with someone potentially dangerous so irresponsibly." If Midnight was offended by the accusations of being called dangerous, he definitely didn't show it. In fact, he might have been smirking.

"But, if what you say is true and the Council has set a reward for his capture, we could run into bounty hunters. Limiting his magical power might actually be taking away needed protection in the case of an emergency away from home. Isn't that irresponsible too?"

Makarov narrowed his eyes slightly. "Do you trust him that much, Dreamer?"

The sudden question startled her. She felt her cheeks take on some heat when she felt red eyes staring at her as well, waiting for her answer.

"I… I'm just saying it goes both ways…" She calculated her words carefully and made a point not to return Midnight's gaze. Her fingers absently rubbed a crease in her shirt.

Makarov shook his head. "The limiter stays on. And you, young man…" He looked at Midnight, who simply stared smugly back at him. "You may want to consider changing your appearance a bit if you don't want to be recognized. Or, at the very least, covering that guild mark on your arm."

Bright red "Six Prayers" symbol on his upper right arm—not conspicuous at all.

"Not a chance." Midnight shot back at him.

"It was a simple suggestion, young man. It's you who will pay the consequences if you're recognized by the Council. However…" His expression turned grim. "You are also putting Dreamer in harm's way by advertising your identity while with her." He looked serious, threatening.

"It's okay, Master, really." Dreamer spoke up. She splayed her hands out defensively in the air. "It doesn't bother me."

"It bothers me." Makarov said, not looking at her. He kept his gaze locked on Midnight. "I am ordering you to get a change of clothes while on this vacation and to cover your guild mark. Be thankful I do not have Levy remove it from you."

"You wouldn't dare." Midnight's muscles tensed, his eyes narrowed and retracted.

"I will, if you do not compromise." Makarov was unthreatened. "This is to protect my daughter. You may choose your own style, though I suggest at least changing your lipstick choice." His eyes twinkled teasingly. "Maybe try white or sparkling gold."

Midnight's temple pulsed. Dreamer put her hands on her hips. "Stop picking on him, Master!"

"What?! Red lipstick would really make his eyes pop." He giggled in childlike mischief.

"Come on, Midnight." Dreamer grabbed his hand and turned toward the door. "Don't listen to him, he's just trying to get you riled up."

Master Makarov laughed and waved at them. "Oh, I've given a calling card to Jezran in case anything happens!"

"Try to be nice with your punishment this year, Master," Dreamer called back while tugging Midnight out the door.

"Oooh, I can't wait…" Makarov gave a girly giggle before the door shut.

Dreamer spoke up once the door shut. "Honestly, I'm kind of relieved," she said as they walked along the hall. "That race is horrifying… Looks like Piper will be obligated to participate too. He won't be too happy about that." She chewed on a thumbnail and thought. "Where are we going to go, though? I wish he'd told me about this sooner so that I could plan a trip. I have to talk to Syllestra and see if she's going to go or stay… We could always go to the Excalibur Estate, but… I don't think you'd like that very much…" She rambled on for a moment before she caught the dark smirk on his painted lips. "What? What are you thinking about?"

"I'm just wondering how long you plan on holding my hand." His eyes were taunting. She stopped walking and looked at their interlaced fingers. She gulped and released it, immediately turned her head to hide the coloring of her cheeks.

"What's wrong, sweet Dream?" He turned his body to face her. "The way you were standing up for me in front of your master, I was beginning to think you actually like me."

She shivered at the way his words drawled, deep and entrancing, but also frightening. "Of course I do," she snapped. "If I didn't like you, I wouldn't put up with you all the time. I consider you my friend, Midnight." She knew better than to call him by his real name at this point.

"You must have a death wish, looking for a friend in me." He stepped completely in front of her, blocking her exit from the hall. "Is that what it is, Dream? You want to die?" He cocked his head slightly, making that strand of braided white hair sway in an almost trancelike way.

"Stop calling me Dream. I don't like it. You only do it to demean me." She folded her arms over her chest. She met his blood-red eyes, hoping she looked brave or confident or really anything besides nervous. "Come on, Midnight, stop being a jerk and let me walk."

His smirk grew wider. "You're actually irritated, aren't you?"

"Yes." She sighed. "I can only tolerate so much of your constant death threats and sadistic teasing." This had become the norm as of late. Sometimes Midnight was cruel and terrifying, and she wanted to be nowhere near him. Other times, he seemed to seek her out for sport—he was still cruel, but he also seemed to be fixated on her, teasing her and watching her reactions with eyes that felt like they could peel back skin. At these times, she felt strangely drawn to him.

"How far would I have to push you to see you break, I wonder?" His eyes gleamed and he closed more of the space between them. He wasn't touching her, but his body was less than a hair's breadth away—so close that she could feel his cold breath on her forehead. His obscure scent. The weight of unreadable emotions-intensity.

"Here's an idea…" She swallowed. Her confident facade was faltering. It was obvious by the quieting of her voice. "How about you stop trying to break me, and let me walk down this hall?"

"You know, the more you protest, the more I want to watch you suffer." He lifted a hand and ghosted it over the skin of her arm, but still didn't touch her.

"Do you even hear half of the stuff you say?" Goosebumps rose where he'd almost touched her, and she felt a bit lightheaded. "It's scary!" She side-stepped to get out of the uncomfortable closeness, but he snatched her hand.

"You should listen to your master." His voice was suddenly deathly serious. He interlaced his fingers in hers and pulled her roughly against him so he could whisper in her ear. "I _am_ dangerous. So don't make stupid suggestions like having my magic limiter turned off. Unless you really _do_ want to die."

Her heart pounded in her chest. His fingers were a vice, tightened painfully around her own. They were chest to chest, close enough that she was sure he could feel her stampeding heart. All she could do was nod in obedience. This was a good example of a time when he wasn't teasing—he was plain terrifying.

He stood there like that for a long moment, his breaths on her ear and neck, sending goosebumps down her spine. Chamomile and rust brushing her skin. She expected him to release her after this threat, but his fingers remained tight. His body remained in the same space as hers.

"Midnight…" she trembled. "How long are you planning on holding my hand?" There was a quaver in her voice, but she made herself smile teasingly.

He released the bone-crushing grip on her fingers at last and then walked past her, in the opposite direction. "I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up when it's time to go." He plunged his hands into his pockets and did not look back at her.

"Okay! Bye." She waved and darted out the door. She wiped cold sweat from her forehead and slowed her breathing. She tried to sort out her own confused emotions. A mixture of terror and excitement? She shivered involuntarily as she looked at her fingers, where moments ago they had been intertwined with his.

Vacation for two nights with Midnight?

How long _would_ it be before she finally broke?

* * *

 **A/N: Shout-out to Simana! First off, thank you for your kind reviews! I swear I sustain my weekly nourishment from the reviews all of you guys leave me! Secondly, I forgot to make a note about your suggestion in one of your reviews for how Midnight might gain some acceptance in the guild. I wanted to commend you for not being too far off point! The next few chapters will be vital for developing Midnight's newfound place in Fairy Tail. ;) So buckle up and enjoy the ride!**


	19. A Strained Relationship

**Chapter 19: A Strained Relationship**

Golden rays of afternoon sun shone in through the train window. Rolling Fioran hills stretched for miles, like a moving painting beyond the glass. Dreamer, Jezran, Syllestra, and Midnight were in a booth together, on their way to the magical town of Rose Garden.

Syllest's feet swung, and she swayed in her spot, a bundle of barely contained energy. She was sitting next to a sleeping Midnight, since she'd begged and pleaded to sit next to him when they boarded the train. He hadn't said yes, but he hadn't said no either.

"Mom, that cloud looks like an air ship!" She pointed out the window. "And that one looks like Jet's hat! And that one over there kind of looks like Lucy's boobs."

"Syllest!"

"What, it's true! Those are the biggest, roundest clouds up there!"

Dreamer and Jezran chuckled at her antics. She fidgeted in her seat and hummed to herself. "Mom, how much longer?"

"Probably another hour," Dreamer answered.

"An hour?! Ugh, I'm gonna die." She stretched out dramatically, completely uncaring of the way she bumped into Midnight when she did so. Luckily, he seemed too deep in sleep to care.

"You could follow the young man's lead and take a nap, my dear," Jezran said.

"No way! I can't sleep! I promised Romeo that I'm not sleeping for 24 hours! Not until the race is over, so I can cheer him on in spirit! Besides, Macbeth sleeps all the time. He's like a cat, huh mom? Like a black and white cat, like the one that meows outside Auntie Mira's window at night. Do you think he likes milk? Macbeth, not the cat. I know the cat likes milk because I put some out there for it the other night—"

"Oh, so that's why it won't go away?" Dreamer rolled her eyes. Syllest ignored her completely.

"Maybe he can purr. Can Macbeth purr, Mom?" She poked Midnight's shoulder.

"How should I know?" Dreamer laughed and leaned against the window.

"You should pet him and find out," Syllest suggested, much to the dismay of a now rosy-cheeked Dreamer.

"Would you leave him alone, Syllest? He's trying to sleep!" She chastised the girl as she laid out on Midnight's lap and stared at his face between the curtains of his white hair, which was currently unbraided. "If you wake him up, you might die."

"Mom," Syllest said, quietly. "I think Macbeth is having nightmares." Her pink eyes were serious, little lips frowning in concern.

Dreamer sighed. "He probably is, Syllest. Now get off of him."

Syllestra ignored her again and reached up to flick a strand of his hair. "Mom, can't you help him?"

Dreamer glanced away from the window to look at the two of them. Syllestra, in a frilly pink romper and sandals, black hair pooling in Midnight's lap. Midnight, arms folded over his chest, head down, twitching as familiar horrors raged on in his dreams.

"You can make his bad dreams go away, right? Like you do with me sometimes, and Piper. Remember when I used to have those bad dreams about that shadow? The black one with the cage? You made those dreams go away and you gave me good dreams instead! Can't you do that to Macbeth too?" She looked at Dreamer with buggy, enthused eyes. "Do it, Mom! Do it right now!"

Dreamer glanced over at Jezran, who gave a slight shake of his head in warning. His eyes were sad but also full of concern.

"I can't, sweetie." She watched the way Midnight's shoulders trembled slightly, every so often, as the nightmare got worse.

"Why not? He looks really scared. I don't like it."

"Neither do I, Syllest, but…" She was no match for the nightmares he dealt with. They were deep, like shards of magic power lodged in his very soul. And she was already at the end of her season. Much more reckless expulsion of her magical energy and…

"What's the point of having magic if you can't help your friends?" Syllest said, her eyes suddenly hard. "If I had your magic, I'd help him!" She sat up and crossed her arms dramatically while resting her head on Midnight's arm.

"Syllestra, you should not talk to your mother like that, dear me." Jezran chided her sternly, waggling an old finger at her.

Syllest huffed and looked at Midnight again, the concern etched deeply on her small face. She suddenly closed her eyes and put her palms together, concentrating.

"Syllest, what are you doing?" Dreamer leaned forward. Shock riveted her at the sight of the child forming a pink magical circle in her hands.

She ignored Dreamer and pulled her eyebrows together even more. After a moment, she had formed a pink circle with ridges around it. The circle began to harden and crystallize, as Syllest's face took on a pained expression.

"Syllest! Stop it right now!" Dreamer's voice was a desperate, but controlled reprimand. She couldn't yell at her on the train and cause a scene.

Syllest ignored her and clenched her teeth. He hands started to tremble.

Dreamer grasped Jezran's hand and looked at him with terrified eyes. He patted her hand and shook his head, as if advising her not to interrupt.

Finally, the pink circle was hard diamond. Syllest's magical energy subsided. She looked at the small shape in her hands and then plucked out one of her raven-black hairs.

"Syllestra Raine Cumula, what are you _doing_?!" Dreamer hissed.

"More than _you_!" Syllest snapped back. She wrapped the hair around the circle, through the ridges, creating a spider web in the center. Then she undid the necklace she was wearing and replaced her pendant with the newly created thing. She held it up to Dreamer and Jezran with a look of pride on her face. "It's a dream catcher! Maybe it will catch his bad dreams!" She turned and clasped the necklace around Midnight's neck, who was somehow still oblivious to everything going on around him.

The young girl sat back with a proud grin. "I'm really good, huh?"

Dreamer's face was red with fury. She leaned across the space in the booth. "You've been practicing your magic!" She was trembling, hands shaking, jaw clenched tight.

Jezran patted Dreamer's back. "Please, dear, don't be too harsh with her…"

"I told you you're not allowed to use it! What are you thinking?!" Tears were welling in her eyes.

"That's not fair!" Syllest snapped back. "I want to be a Fairy Tail wizard one day, too! Why do YOU get to do magic and I don't?! You, Uncle Piper, Auntie Mira, Grandpa Jezran… Even _Romeo_ uses his dad's fire magic!"

"I don't care, Syllest! I told you you're not going to be a wizard! Who's been teaching you?!"

"No one! I learned by myself!" She huffed and her bottom lip jutted in a pout.

"How could you go behind my back like that?! Have you been training with Romeo again?! That's it, you're not allowed to see him outside of school!"

"That's not FAIR!" Syllest's voice rose loudly.

"If being around wizards is filling your head with ideas, then I'll keep you away from them!"

Jezran squeezed Dreamer's shoulder. "Listen to yourself, dear me…"

"No! She knew better and she did it anyway!" Dreamer's fists were clenched, tears now following the curve of her cheeks.

"Why do you hate my magic?!" Syllest was yelling now. "Do you hate me too?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" Dreamer's voice rose as well. "I'm trying to protect you, Syllest. Don't you understand that?"

"No! I don't!" She was crying too. "I think my magic is pretty! Piper and Romeo think so too! I'm not going to stop using it just because you're scared, Mom!"

"I am _not_ scared, Syllest. I just—"

"Shut up!" Syllest stood up, trembling, little hands clenched into fists. "I'm going to keep using my magic so I can be strong one day and I can protect Romeo and Fairy Tail like they take care of me! Because I love my friends and I love magic! But you… I hate you!"

Her words were like a splash of cold water. She felt her insides shatter like broken ice, her breath freeze in her lungs.

Syllest's eyes widened in shame and anger. She let out a sob and turned to run out of the booth. Dreamer didn't even have the strength to reach for her. The girl had gotten around the corner and almost out of sight when a hand suddenly clutched her arm.

Midnight's head still hung low, his eyes remained closed, but his grip was firm on Syllest's arm. Her mouth hung open in shock.

"Sit." The command was quiet and low. "Sit down and stop talking."

Syllest's lips closed and trembled. Tears blurred her vision. "Y-you can't tell me what to do! You're not my father!"

"Running will get you killed," he said. "Don't run from the people who care about you."

Dreamer looked at him in shock and awe. His eyes were still closed, his breathing heavy. She wondered if he was even awake, or if this was a subconscious action, brought on from the darkness of his memories.

Something about his tone seemed to get through to the girl. She relaxed and pulled his fingers off of her arm before returning to her spot beside him. Neither Midnight nor Syllestra said another word. She turned her back to the group and pulled a jacket over her face to cry.

Dreamer watched this exchange with all of her nerves on edge, her heart pounding, head swimming. She didn't know what to think. Didn't know what to feel.

 _I hate you._

"Fight it, Dreamer," Jezran whispered while rubbing her back. "Hold it back. This is not the time nor place."

She squinted her eyes shut and controlled her breathing.

"She didn't mean it, dear me," he said.

But she wasn't so sure.

 _I just want to protect you, Syllest… That magic…_

Memories of black diamonds… Of screaming, of her sister's terrified face… Of flashes of black and yellow. Laughter.

Dreamer put her face in her hands and cried.


	20. Trouble in the Rose Garden

**A/N: I hope you guys are ready for some Middream fluff. ;) Let me know what you think!**

* * *

 **Chapter 20: Trouble in the Rose Garden**

Jezran led Syllest off the train. Dreamer was busy trying to wake up Midnight.

"Come on, Midnight, we're here." She shook his shoulders. "We've got to walk!"

The man grumbled in response. His head lolled to the side, a drool bubble on the corner of his mouth. She sighed and tried to scoop him up to no avail. "Wake up or you'll be stuck on the train!" She snapped her fingers in front of his face, then clapped her hands, then poked his cheek.

He _finally_ somehow managed to stand and lean heavily against her, eyes partially open but unseeing.

"You _have_ to carry some of your weight, Midnight," she grunted, trying to walk with him along the aisle. "I seriously wish there was a way you could sleep and walk at the same time."

"I used to have a magic carpet," he grumbled with a yawn. He picked up his boots slightly, though he still leaned on her.

"A magic carpet?" She helped him down the steps of the train and into the crowd of people waiting at the station. They garnered some amused glances.

"Does he have motion sickness?" Someone asked, with a chuckle at Midnight's deadweight-form.

"No, he's just lazy," she answered with a winning smile.

He rubbed an eye with his fist, then yawned loudly. "I had a magic carpet until you so kindly kidnapped me and left it buried in the wreckage of Nirvana." His voice was a whiny pout.

"Did you just say I kidnapped you?" She giggled.

"Shut up," he hissed, finally standing on his own. "I'm too tired to think straight."

"You're cute when you're like this," she said, without really thinking about her words. After they escaped her mouth she felt a creeping blush and a jolt of fear that he'd be in her face threatening her for saying something like that.

"I'm not cute…" he grumbled, starting to regain his normal sneer, though his voice retained its whine. "I'm a ferocious nightmare."

Dreamer laughed out loud. _You're a black and white kitten,_ she thought, but knew much better than to say this.

They caught up with the other two and walked out of the station, into the bustling town of Rose Garden.

"Woooow, look at all the lights!" Syllest spun in a circle. "Mom, can you feel all that magical energy?! It's everywhere! It's making me feel fuzzy and ticklish." She giggled and tugged on Jezran's hand. "Come on, come on, let's go see everything!"

"We should check in to the hotel first," Dreamer said.

All the earlier tension between her and Syllest from the train ride had dissipated, or at least been pushed aside for the time being. The captivating town was a perfect distraction. With its buildings that scraped the bellies of the clouds, the bustle of people and shops selling magical supplies, wizards flying above on vehicles and broomsticks, light glowing blue and bright from giant lacryma hovering high above the streets… It was truly majestic.

"I suggest Thorn Charade," Jezran said, pointing to a building at the end of a long street. "It's comfortable and has a sophisticated security system." He gave Dreamer a mustached smile, as if he knew safety would be the first thing on her mind. Security for Syllest.

"Isn't the Thorn Charade really expensive?" she asked.

"Have no worries, dear me, I will cover all of the expenses this weekend," Jezran bowed low, making his top hat fall off-which Syllest quickly scooped up and placed on her own head.

"Jez—"

"It is my pleasure, dear me." Jezran's brown eyes were kind but firm. He would not take no for an answer.

"It doesn't matter to me," Midnight said with a disdainful shrug. "As long as I get a room separate from the trash." His words were cruel but his lips drawn in a taunting smirk.

"You're not getting a room alone," Dreamer said pointedly. Master Makarov had forbidden it. And though Dreamer had faith in Midnight's capacity for good, she wasn't stupid.

"Then I'll share a room with you, sweet dream." Deviousness glinted in his sharp eyes, making her stomach churn.

"I'll share a room with you, Macbeth!" Syllest jumped up and down in front of him. "Asides, uncle Piper said I should hit you if you ask to sleep in Mom's room."

Midnight smirked while Dreamer blushed. "Maybe I will share a room with you after all, Dreamer."

"Okay, we are _done_ with this conversation!" Dreamer cleared her throat. "Midnight will be staying with Jezran, and Syllest will be with me. Discussion closed."

Midnight laughed as if truly amused. Jezran bowed. Syllest whined in complaint about not getting to share a room with the assassin. And Dreamer ignored them all, making a beeline for the hotel.

The Thorn Charade _was_ expensive. That much was obvious from the thorny vines made of gold that climbed the marble pillars in the lobby. Plus, everyone staying at the hotel was dressed to the nines, as polished and pressed as Jezran was on a daily basis. It definitely made the ragtag group stand out.

"Pardon me," Jezran stood at the reception desk. "We would like two rooms, please."

The receptionist didn't look up from the magazine he was reading called "The Life of Sophistication and Sorcery." He gestured toward a sign on the counter. "I am terribly sorry, sir, but we are booked for the evening. You will have to schedule in advance next time."

"That will be two rooms for the Excalibur family, if you will, dear me." Pops' mustached smile didn't falter.

The receptionist gasped audibly and took a step back, eyes widening. "E-Excalibur, you say? Ah yes, it seems we had a last minute cancellation! I can get you in immediately!"

Dreamer watched this exchange with a sweat drop. "He's really not all that great at keeping it low profile…"

After they checked in, they sat in one of the hotel rooms and debated about how they would spend the rest of the evening.

"I want to fly on a broomstick!" Syllest begged, while jumping on the satin red comforter of a hotel bed. "I saw a shop giving training rides to children! Can I go, can I please go!" She sprung off the bed and into Jezran's arms. He caught her nimbly, chuckling at her enthusiasm. "Please, please, please?!"

"It is entirely up to your mother, dear me."

"I'm not asking _her._ " She cut her eyes at Dreamer. "She'll just say no."

Dreamer winced and sighed. "You can go on a ride, Syllest. But only if Pops is willing to pay for it."

The old man ruffled Syllest's hair and smiled with happy closed eyes. "I will gladly escort you, my dear."

"I want to walk around the famous Garden," Dreamer said, eyes sparkling. The Garden, where the town had gotten its namesake. One of the wonders of Fiore. It was a massive garden with fountains and hedges of the most beautiful roses in the country.

Midnight was already walking to the oversized fluffy bed.

"I don't think so." She grabbed his wrist by the black bracelet. "You're stuck with me."

He snatched his wrist away from her. "Go to hell."

"Watch your language in front of Syllest!"

"Mom, hell isn't a bad word."

"Well it's rude to tell people to go to hell!" She countered.

" _Please,_ go to hell," Midnight corrected. Syllest giggled.

"That did not make it any politer…" Dreamer said through narrowed eyes and puffed out cheeks. She regained composure quickly. "Come on, Midnight. It won't be that bad. I won't even talk to you, I just want to look at the garden."

"Is that a promise?" He raised his eyebrow.

"Yes. I won't say anything unless you talk to me first," she bowed her head in solemn promise.

He smirked widely, as if that were some kind of game. "Fine. But if you break your promise, I'll make you pay."

Dreamer glanced at Syllest, truly worried about what she might learn from seeing these threatening exchanges.

Syllest giggled and tugged on Jezran's sleeve, standing on tiptoes so she could cup his ear and whisper. He chuckled.

"What?!" Dreamer put her hands on her hips and glowered at them.

"Mom and Macbeth, going on a date~" Syllest sang and did a jig. "Macbeth, if you kiss her are you going to wipe your lipstick off first?"

"SYLLESTRA!" Dreamer flushed in deep embarrassment and grabbed her by the shoulders to push her out the door.

"What? It was just a question!"

"It's _not_ a date! Now go!"

Jezran chuckled and followed the jabbering girl out of the room before slipping a card into Dreamer's pocket. "It will allow us to communicate," he said quietly, "in the event that something should happen."

"Thank you, Pops." Dreamer smiled. "Take care of her for me."

"Dear me, worry about taking care of yourself." He looked past her at the dark wizard with a suspicious gaze, but then stroked Dreamer's knuckles before continuing after Syllest. Leaving Dreamer and Midnight alone in the hotel room.

"Mid—" she started.

"Quiet. Your promise starts now." His dark smirk lingered, purple shaded eyelids looking particularly sinister in the low hotel room light. Especially with the blood red irises shadowed below them.

She nodded and went into the hall. He followed.

The two of them took to the streets of Rose Garden in mutual silence. She led the way, but he walked close behind her—the distinctive sound of his boots dragging, ensuring her of his closeness. She picked up a brochure at a news stand and looked for directions to the Garden, which was only a few blocks away.

The night air was brisk, even though it was summer. Or perhaps it was the wind blowing that made it feel cold. There was probably a storm approaching. But for now, the skies were clear, albeit empty of stars due to the glare of lights from this never-sleeping town. Up ahead was a beautiful archway, covered in tendrils of vines and roses, marking entry to the park. Her pace quickened.

The Garden was more glorious than she had imagined.

Endless rows of roses—in hedges—climbing towers and arches. Reds and pinks and yellows, glowing like lights because of an enchantment cast on them to keep them vibrant even in the night hours. Fireflies flickering and landing on the leaves. The overwhelming aroma of growth, soil, and fresh flowers. The only sounds were the quiet rustle of leaves when a breeze blew through, the croaking of rainbow toads, the soothing gurgle of fountains and a tiny stream through the park, and the occasional low murmur of voices from lovers wrapped in each other's arms on park benches.

Actually, this was the perfect location for a romantic excursion, she realized. Like something out of a novel. She glanced over at Midnight, walking with his hands in his pockets and his eyes staring into the distance—the breeze playing with his dual-colored hair.

 _Oh no, what was I thinking?! This IS like a date!_

Her limbs stiffened and her face started to burn. Did HE think it was like a date?! She hadn't even thought about that! She just wanted to see the garden because she was interested. In the garden, not him!

A couple kissed passionately on the edge of a fountain nearby. Dreamer gulped and averted her eyes when the woman glanced at her and Midnight and smiled knowingly before plunging back into an intimate kiss with her lover.

 _Oh my god, I have to get out of here!_

She walked like a robot, now searching desperately for the exit. But this garden was massive, and part of it was _literally_ a hedge maze. Great! She was lost on an unwilling date with Midnight of the Oracion Seis!

"What's with the amusing expression?" he asked, his eyes falling on her.

She opened her mouth to speak. He bit his lip as if eager for her to slip up and answer his question, thus breaking her vow of silence. She caught the words in her throat and looked at the ground with a shrug.

"I find you mildly entertaining," he mused, which almost sounded like a compliment. "I always found women to be incredibly boring." His lip twitched in disgust at a memory. "Angel was the worst. Her constant nagging and complaining put me to sleep. But you, Dream…" He reached up and flicked her earring, teasingly. "Your misery is a lullaby to my ears."

She pointedly avoided looking at him. _Exit, where's the exit?!_

A giggle followed by a very suggestive noise came from behind some bushes nearby. Dreamer's face flushed even more. What was she _thinking_ , bringing him here at night?! And were those people really doing THAT right now?

"You almost look scared," Midnight mocked. He stepped in front of her, making her stop, and leaned to her ear. "Do I make you nervous?"

She went to give him a hard shove in the chest but he caught her arms. "Don't you dare." His voice was menacing, reminding her of the anger lurking below the surface of his teasing façade. Striking him would be a bad idea. Instead, she snatched her hands away and walked briskly past him. He didn't stop her, simply made an amused sound, something like… A purr?

 _You should pet him and find out._

She practically ran to the exit, trampling roses on the way.

She was about to step out under the archway when something caught her attention on the path in front of her. She'd almost stepped on it. She blinked in surprise and knelt down to pick it up.

A black rose.

She stood and looked back at the rose garden. Strange. She hadn't seen any black rose plants. Maybe it was from a part of the garden they hadn't walked through. She tossed it carelessly to the side of the path.

She hated black roses.

Relief washed over her when they were finally free of the horrific love garden. She returned to the main street and window shopped at stores that were still open, despite the hour. Up ahead was a large marketplace. She gestured for him to follow and raced on ahead to the shops. Something stood out to her in a stand at the end, so she wound her way through the crowd to it. Unable to haggle with the shop owner while keeping her promise, she bought the object at full price and then turned.

Midnight was gone.

"Oh no…" The crowd of people was so thick that she must have lost him when she hurried to the shop. Now, she couldn't see his head of black and white hair anywhere.

What if he'd snuck off on purpose? What if this was it? He was gone? Would she have to call the Magic Council and tell them to comb the city for him? She'd always known it was a possibility, but with every day he'd spent with Fairy Tail, she'd grown in the hope that… maybe he would stay.

Her heart caught in her throat. She pushed through the crowd, hunting for him.

"Macbeth!" she called, afraid to use the pseudonym in public. "Macbeth, where are you?!"

She asked a handful of people if they'd seen a made up wizard walk by. They all shook their heads. Panic gripped her. He was gone. She'd have to go back to the room and call the council right away—and then Makarov, and somehow explain how she'd lost the fugitive.

"Macbeth!"

A hand closed over her mouth and muffled the following scream. She relaxed only after seeing black fingernails.

"You lose," Midnight hissed in her ear. "You weren't supposed to talk."

She turned and looked up at him with wild eyes. "I thought you…" She didn't finish the sentence because she realized she was wrong. He hadn't run away. He was still here…

"And here I hoped I would spend the rest of the night without hearing your annoying voice," he said, condescendingly. "I knew you wouldn't be able to stay true to your word."

"Midnight, I…" She blinked, noticing for the first time his change in appearance.

He had changed clothes and was now wearing a long gray coat, the belt hanging loosely at the side. Around his neck was a long, white fur scarf. He wore white striped pants now, that hung low on his hips, revealing skin in the space between the pants and the hem of a black halter top. Most amazing of all, was the fact that the long sleeves completely covered his Oracion Seis mark. She also realized, that hanging beneath the fur scarf, against the bare skin below his collarbone, was the makeshift dream catcher Syllest had made for him. He hadn't taken it off.

"You want to stop staring before I rip your eyes out, fairy?" He scowled harshly at her.

"I-I'm sorry, I just… You look…" She didn't even know what to say. Had he done this because of Master Makarov's suggestion that he change his appearance?

"What are you holding?" He narrowed his eyes at the bundle in her arms.

"Huh? Oh, this…" She blushed lightly and held it out to him. "It's a magic carpet. If you didn't notice, they're everywhere in Rose Garden."

He narrowed his eyes in total disbelief. "You got this… for me?"

"Of course! To make up for the one I cost you."

"Hmph." He took it from her arms and unrolled it. Then stared at her.

"W-What? Did I do something wrong? You don't like the color?" She knew she should have gone with the black with beige trim… Or maybe it was the material he didn't like. Was his old magic carpet made of wool?

"I can't use it if you don't put some magical energy into it." He said, as if it were obvious.

"Oh yeah, I guess you can't do that with the limiter on, can you?"

The glare he gave her told her all she needed to know about how he felt on the matter. She swallowed nervously and put her hands on the carpet before channeling some energy into it. It hovered off of the ground in response and Midnight immediately climbed onto it.

He fidgeted on it for a moment, leaning to the left, then the right. Crossing his legs, running his hand through the gold threads. "This will do," he said.

"Good." She smiled in relief.

Suddenly, his hand was extended to her. She stared uncomprehendingly at it. His palm was open toward her. When she met his eyes, they were consuming crimson pools.

"Get on," he commanded.

"What?" She shook her head. "No thanks, I don't think it's designed for two people," she said, as a carpet with three people and a dog flew over her head.

He smirked and kept his hand extended. "I know for a _fact_ that I make you nervous, now."

"No, you don't." She countered, defiantly. "I just prefer to keep my feet on the ground, thank you very much. Besides, why do you _want_ me to join you?"

"It's simple," he said casually. "Your magic is what's powering it, so it will be easier to do this if you sit here too."

Of course he just wanted her for her magical energy.

"And your lap would make a comfortable pillow so that I don't have to sleep sitting up."

She blushed at the image of a serenely sleeping Midnight with his head on her lap. "Stop making fun of me," she commanded.

"Not likely."

She was about to argue when his fingers closed around her wrist without warning, and he yanked her onto the carpet anyway. She squeaked and tripped on the rug—fell against him, and ended up in a position where she straddled his thigh. Her breasts were flush against his bicep and… the palm of his other hand. Not only that, but their noses were touching, eyes and lips barely separated.

"…"

Red and pink eyes gazed into one another for what felt like an eternity. Swirling pools of blood—of rouge light, caught in cherry blossoms—sweet cotton candy pink.

"… HEY!" She floundered to get out of the awkward position, swatting his hand away from her boob while her cheeks burned with the intensity of an etherion blast. Midnight looked both amused, and… slightly flushed as well.

"That…! You…!" She fumbled for words with no idea of what to do from here.

Before she had to decide however, there was a sound from her pocket. She pulled out the card Jezran had given her, which had a cartoonish version of him waving its hands frantically on the face of it.

"Dreamer, dear me! Dear me do you hear me?!"

"Pops? What's up?" She said into the card.

"Dreamer, it's Syllestra!"

 _Syllest._ A choking panic gripped her throat. Somehow, she knew what was coming before he uttered those two words. The two words she feared more than any. The ones that haunted her sleep and filled her with terror nearly daily…

"She's gone."


	21. Battle on the Rooftops

**Chapter 21: Battle on the Rooftops**

"What happened?!" Dreamer stood in an alleyway, shaking Jezran's shoulders as tears streamed from her eyes. The old man's face was lined with heavy creases of guilt and worry.

"We were flying," he explained, "when Syllest said she heard a woman screaming, dear me… I heard no such thing, but she was already breaking away from the group to investigate. I followed immediately afterward. We took several turns around buildings and then the image before me dematerialized, as if it had been a mirage all along, dear me." He closed his eyes and a tear slid along the ridges in his face before nestling in his mustache. "I was duped by magic."

"Someone took her… YOU LET SOMEONE TAKE HER!" Dreamer cried in desperation and slammed her fists repeatedly against Jezran's chest, but weakly, as if all the strength had gone from her body.

"Get ahold of yourself," Midnight snapped from several feet away. His face was covered in shadow, dark and foreboding. "If you want to find her then you don't have time to feel sorry for yourself."

His words were harsh but they snapped her to reality. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Jezran. "Can you track her?"

"Dear me, if I could I would have already begun. As it stands, I have no trace of her magical energy to follow."

Dreamer clenched a trembling fist and stared at the dirty ground below. She gasped and looked at Midnight. "The dream catcher!"

She snatched it off of his neck, breaking the chain in the process. She handed it to Jezran, whose eyes were alight in understanding. He gave a brief nod and took it from her with a weathered hand.

Midnight narrowed his eyes and watched in silence. Jezran lifted the golden pocket watch from his pocket and opened it. Inside was not a clock at all, but rather hands that resembled those of a compass. He held the dream catcher Syllest had created over the face of the watch. Its hands spun until they pointed shakily to the south-east, at the eight.

"Quickly."

They ran in that direction, back into the streets. "We must fly!" Jezran shouted. They were pushing through groups of people frantically. Flight would be much faster than running on foot. So Jezran grabbed the handlebars of a magi-bike that some kid had been riding on, thrusting the child to the side. "Pardon me, dear me." He mounted the bike and began to pedal into the air.

Dreamer enlarged Midnight's magic carpet (which had been shrunk for the sake of space), and unrolled it. He stepped on and held his hand out to her, but she was suddenly frozen.

"What are you waiting for?" Red eyes scowled at her.

"I-I can't…" Her breathing was shallow, eyes as wide as lacryma orbs. Body trembling, hair standing on her arms.

"We don't have time for you to be a fool," his lips were pulled back in something of a snarl. "Get on."

"N-No, I… I can't—"

Like before, he snatched her by the arm and yanked her onto the carpet next to him, this time with much less dramatic results. "We need your energy," he snapped.

She was trembling, totally frozen. Face as white as moonlight.

"Dreamer!" He grabbed her by the chin, his fingers gripping hard. He looked into her terrified eyes. Screaming pink. Irises retracted to almost nothing. He stared and cocked his head just slightly.

He knew this expression well. He'd seen it on a thousand faces, from children in dark cells to men begging for their lives on their knees before him. He was perfectly acquainted with it. He lived and breathed the emotion reflected in her eternal pink eyes at that moment.

"You're afraid." It was a statement, not a question.

She didn't answer, just stared at him as if not seeing. Her lip trembled uncontrollably.

"As satisfying as it is to see the look of horror on your face," he said harshly, "we have more important things to focus on—like using your magic to power this carpet."

"I… can't…" Her voice was hoarse. "You… U-use yours. Use yours."

"You pathetic fairy, have you forgotten my chains?!" He squeezed her chin harder, shaking her head a bit as if to shake some sense into her. Passerby began to watch.

"It's off," she mumbled. "The l-limiter… It's turned off."

He blinked in surprise and looked at the purple anklet. To test her words, he placed his hands on the carpet and channeled his own magical energy into it. To his astonishment, there was a surplus of magical energy bubbling under his skin for use.

Wasting no time, he took to the air after Jezran. Dreamer screamed and wrapped her arms crushingly around his waist. She buried her face into his jacket and sobbed.

"You're afraid of heights," he observed, a smirk drawing across his lips. He would remember this information for later. For now, there were more pressing matters.

Like following a bicycling Jezran above the rooftops.

Rose Garden stretched out beneath them like a blanket of lights. Jezran followed his pocket watch and Midnight followed him. Dreamer shook violently, squeezing him tightly enough to restrict his breathing.

Through waves of terror, she saw images of Syllest's beautiful little face. Was it _him_? Had he taken her? No… He didn't use illusory magic. This was something else.

A scream filled the night air.

"Syllest!" Dreamer looked up for only a moment before she saw how high up they were, the roads no more than lines below them. She buried herself deeper against Midnight.

Jezran changed direction toward the scream but his cycle was suddenly stopped in place. Midnight held his hand out, his magic controlling the bicycle.

"It's not her," he said. "It's an illusion."

"How do you know?!" Jezran shouted, suspicion obvious.

"I'm a master of illusions." Midnight pointed with his free hand to Jezran's watch. "Keep following the compass."

Jezran looked at Midnight for a long moment. Brown eyes met red. Indecision and calculation flashed in the old man's eyes, and finally… he gave a brief nod. Midnight had earned his trust.

The flight continued until the hands on the pocket watch began to spin uncontrollably. Jezran drove down toward the rooftop below. Midnight followed.

* * *

On the roof of a tower, a squat man ushered a gagged girl forward. He was short and perfectly round, like an over-inflated beach ball—though something about the permanent scowl and furrowed uni-brow suggested that he wasn't nearly as fun as a beach ball. The only distinguishing feature besides his roundness was a ring he wore on one of his pudgy fingers, set with a band of black diamond.

"Come on, girlie!" He pushed her roughly toward the door that would lead them into the building and out of sight. Only a little bit further until he got his reward.

They were almost to the metal door when the child suddenly stomped on his sandaled foot. He cried out in pain and loosened his grip, just enough for her to duck down and run. A wave of black hair vanished around an air vent.

"Oy! Where do you think you'll get, girlie? There's nowhere to run!" He waddled after her.

Construction equipment laid on the roof near the edge. The girl ran to it and managed to pick up a sharp blade. She squeaked through her gag when she saw her captor approaching like an inflated balloon. She ran and hid behind a pipe that vented black air from the building. Her pink eyes narrowed in concentration as she severed the rope that bound her hands together. She ran out from behind the vent and faced her kidnapper, legs shoulder-width apart, dead-set determination in her eyes. She tore the gag out of her mouth and threw it into the breeze, where it drifted down to the streets below.

"I'm not scared of you!" She screamed at the man.

He waddled forward with an annoyed, furrowed unibrow.

"I don't have time for this, little girl. I'm just out to collect a reward, no hard feelings."

"Don't come any closer!" She put her hands together and started to form something in them. A pink magical circle. She screamed when suddenly she was surrounded by a circle of the man, multiples of him, ballooned bodies trapping her.

"Not so brave now, huh girlie?"

The child trembled and fell to the ground. She pulled her knees to her chest and cried, trying to hide.

Several chubby hands reached toward her all at once.

"Touch her and I'll slaughter you like the pig you are." A deep and threatening voice resounded from somewhere on the rooftop. The illusions disappeared, revealing the one who was the real man. He turned to face his opponent.

Midnight stepped off of the flying carpet and faced the balloon man, with hard eyes. Dreamer scrambled off of the carpet but then clutched the nearby pipe, the terror still evident on her face.

"Macbeth!" Syllest screamed in joy. "Mom!"

"S-Syllest…" Dreamer saw her through blurry tears. She tried to take a step toward her but her legs were too shaky, so she fell to her knees.

"Get back!" The man warned. "I'm not looking for a fight!"

Midnight smiled sadistically. "Oh? That's too bad. I was excited to see you put up a fight while I destroy you."

"Not going to happen!" A green fog suddenly settled on the rooftop, obscuring the view of everything more than a few inches away.

"MOM!" Syllest's scream echoed into the air.

"Syllest, don't move!" Dreamer yelled back. "You might fall!" There was no way to see the edge of the rooftop in this fog.

There was the sound of knives whistling through the air, followed by the high pitched, mechanical sound of Midnight's reflector magic. He easily diverted the blades that were thrown at him in the fog.

"Is that the best you can do? How boring."

"Midnight! Don't play with him! _Syllest_! We have to get _Syllest_!"

If Midnight heard her, he didn't show it. He was walking casually on the rooftop toward where the man was dragging Syllest with his hand clasped over her mouth.

The man looked up in horror to see nothing but two glowing red eyes in the green fog. He scrambled backward and released a gurgled sound of fear. "Impossible! Y-You can still see!"

"Of course I can." Midnight stepped closer. "I can see exactly what you are." Venom dripped from his tone. "You're a filthy pig that eats the slop thrown to it. You scavenge for food, even feasting on trash. I've killed a hundred vermin just like you."

Even Syllest moved back, until her spine hit the edge of the wall of the rooftop. Her thick eyelashes fluttered in fear at the sight of this… this demon moving through the fog toward them.

"G-Get back! Or I'll throw her off!" The man suddenly grabbed Syllest by the throat and held her in the air, dangling over the city below. The girl gave a strangled cry and looked at Midnight in desperation. The fog cleared due to the enemy wizard's inability to focus. Dreamer could see the three of them now.

"Syllest!" She stumbled forward, but the world spun. She fought through the fear, forcing her feet to move one after another, toward the girl whose black hair whipped in the wind.

"Go ahead," Midnight said.

The only sound was the wind whistling against the rooftop. Three sets of eyes stared in disbelief at the dark silhouette with red eyes. His gray coat fluttered in the breeze with the fur scarf he wore. White hair whipped his pale cheeks, sticking to painted lips. **  
**

"Go ahead. Throw her off," Midnight repeated. He was all red eyes and black lips and bloodlust. "You think I care about that worthless fairy fly?"

Tears welled in Dreamer's eyes. Syllest sobbed and clutched at her captor's black-gloved hand. Her skin was beginning to change color at the restriction of blood flow.

"Do it." Midnight's voice was a dark command. His smirk pulled back into a sneer. The fingers on his right hand twitched.

The man hesitated, eyes bulging. He hadn't expected this job to be like this. He'd just wanted easy money, but this? Facing off against something so terrifying? Was this man even human?

"N-No way! I need her!" The man stuttered.

"Cowardly swine!" Midnight lifted his hand and manipulated the gloved hand around Syllest's throat.

"NO!" Dreamer screamed in horror and ran, forgetting her fear, forgetting everything. Her eyes flickered between Midnight's outstretched hand and fingertips, and Syllest's cherry-blossom eyes. Her heart screamed, her mouth opened in silence to beg Midnight. Pleading. Frantic. _Don't do this! This isn't who you are! Please! Please! Please!_ Begging him to look at her so that she could use her own magic to soothe him—to control his bloody hunger. _Look at me! Macbeth, look at me…_

But his eyes were fixed on the man, his lips drawn in a sadistic smirk, fingers manipulating dark energy. He laughed—maniacally, evilly…

As the man's grip broke on Syllest's throat, and the girl dropped out of sight.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry for another cliffhanger. You guys probably hate me right about now.**

 **QuestionablyCapableGhoul, your review made me laugh out loud. "What level do we have to be to unlock Dreamer's backstory?" XD Well, from here on in, you guys should be able to start piecing it all together. This mini-arc of sorts lays the foundation.**

 **As always, thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing! I'm so honored to have so many regulars to this fic! Please, continue to share your opinions with me! (Even the bad ones, like "you monster, i hate you and your heartless cliffhangers.")**


	22. Don't Kill Him!

**Chapter 22: Don't Kill Him!**

Dreamer's knees hit the ground, followed by her palms and face. She shuddered. Tears of rage splashed on her knuckles.

"How could you?!" She screamed up at Midnight, who had already put his hand back on his hip. He leaned casually back, never once looking at her. "She trusted you! _I_ trusted you!"

The thug tripped backward. His face displayed utter terror.

"W-What the hell are you?! That was just a kid! Y-You're a monster!"

"A monster?" Midnight threw his head back and laughed. "Monster is an understatement. Do you want to see the true face of horror?"

The man fell backward and crushed his body as close to the wall of the roof as possible. He even glanced over, like he was considering the jump.

A strange sound bellowed in the night air—like the heavy chime of a bell or clock.

"W-What is that?!" The man put his hands over his ears. Dreamer did the same, as the ear-splitting sound ricocheted in her skull.

"That's the toll of midnight—the moment when your worst fears become reality!" He spread his arms wide and his body began to change shape—growing, twisting, distorting.

The sky went blood red, as evil as the glowing red eyes that now shone from a massive demon towering over them. A hellish, distorted laugh resounded. Dreamer watched in frozen horror as this monstrous form of Midnight reached down and picked the balloonish man up with a massive clawed hand.

"Pig!" The voice roared. "Cowardly swine!"

The air exploded with the sound of pigs squealing. A herd of them ran below the man's thrashing feet, before blood spurted from their necks one by one, and they piled on top of each other. The man screamed in terror. "What is this?! Is this hell?!"

"This is worse than hell," the voice roared. "This is your worst nightmare!"

Dreamer couldn't move. Her body was paralyzed. She couldn't feel anything, not even her own lungs taking in air. She only had control of her eyes, which were fixated on the grotesque head of the giant creature—of Midnight.

 _So this is what he really is. This is his true form… I was so wrong. He's pure evil._

"You failed, Jacque," the demon laughed mockingly at the man, and tightened its grip. The man cried out in agony. "You're a failure, like always."

A beautiful woman walked by and scowled at the man. "You disgust me, Jacque. You can't do anything right." Her hair blew in the wind as she faded into the blood red sky, the sound of her voice drowned out by the squealing of pigs.

The man sobbed at the sight of her. "No, don't leave…" He reached for her, but Midnight's twisted claws clamped down harder around his balloon-like body, which looked ready to rupture.

"She's gone, pig! Gone because of you!" The laughter throbbed and echoed. "Oh _no_ … What's this? It looks like she's not the only one disappointed in you!"

A crowd of faces surrounded the man, taunting him, mocking him.

"Loser."

"Failure."

"Why don't you just jump off a bridge, already?"

Even the pigs rose, throats sliced, gurgling laughter as they pointed at him. Until, suddenly, the air went deathly silent. The squealing stopped. The sound of wind, and Midnight's demonic laughter, all stopped.

A new image appeared. A man approaching from the shadows. His face was shrouded in darkness, but…

His hair. Charcoal black, flowing behind him as he soundlessly neared. The lightning-bolt streak of yellow. And the molten gold eyes…

Dreamer wanted to scream but she had no voice. It was him. It was the man who haunted her nightmares. The man who took everything from her. The one she feared more than death itself. It was those molten eyes that her magic could never touch—that stalked her in every moment of uncertainty; the burning, electric eyes. It was his sharp features, a face too handsome to match the grotesque evil lurking under the surface—the man whose visage was etched forever in the darkest recesses of her memory, whose name she yearned to forget. If only she'd never heard it. If only that name had never invaded the hope and future she once had.

 _Resmond._

"Hey there, Jacque." A voice that often played on repeat in Dreamer's own mind called out to the fat man. "You wouldn't happen to have gotten the girl, would you?"

That voice… The charming lull. The innocent smile. The drawl that only barely suggested the imminent threat. She'd never wanted to hear that voice again. She'd prayed day and night that this day would never come. And there he was, standing tall and proud before this lowlife thug, his yellow eyes gleaming like cat eyes in the dark. His hands clasped behind his back as he stood patiently, ever so patiently…

"B-Boss! He killed her! I couldn't—"

"Oh…" Resmond sighed.

 _Run! You have to get away! He'll kill you! Fight to get out of Midnight's hand and run, Jacque, run!_ Dreamer willed him to flee. Willed him to somehow escape the fate that awaited him. Death by Midnight's hand could not compare to what Resmond would do to him—to _them._ They _all_ needed to flee. Anywhere but here. Anyone but him.

"You know, Jacque, it was a simple task. I don't ask for much but… I don't have any use for a _failure._ " The distorted man held out a hand and Jacque screamed in agony. Dreamer watched in horror as black diamonds began to protrude from his chest, spraying blood.

 _No!_

She couldn't do anything to save him. She couldn't do anything to stop _him._ Again powerless. Again watching as the source of all her pain slowly smothered the light of another soul.

She could only watch. Like a thirteen-year-old girl from the doorway, too late to stop him. Too weak. His predatory eyes hooked on his prey.

The eyes...

Something was wrong.

Her brain writhed with fear, but clarity began to shine through, somehow. It was his eyes… They weren't right. Her magic was rooted in charming through someone's gaze. She knew eyes… And these didn't feel right. They were the right color. They were the molten gold—the electric knives, but…

The look in them wasn't Resmond's, it was Midnight's. How was that possible?

The black diamonds began to prick through the man's skin, escaping in tiny, ripping shards through his pores. An indescribable pain. Torturous, endless death.

 _No screaming._

Syllest hadn't screamed when she was dropped off the roof. There had been no screaming from the streets below when she would have hit the ground. No slamming on the metal doors from guards come to check the commotion. There had been _no screaming._

Suddenly, the illusion broke. Dreamer was back on the rooftop, on her hands and knees, staring up at Midnight. He was frozen, hand outstretched, eyes glazed over as he controlled the nightmare happening in the man's mind. The man was completely frozen, as she had been.

It all made sense now.

She tried to stand but wind blew through her hair, reminding her of the height. She fell to her knees instantly. If she couldn't stand, she would crawl. Forward, eyes closed, toward Midnight and Jacque.

The man's hands were climbing up to his own throat, clasping around it as some unseen horror wracked him. She understood now. Midnight would torment his mind so much, that he would kill himself. That's how Midnight's magic worked. He killed from afar, allowing his enemies to do the work for him.

"No! Midnight, don't kill him!" She shouted, but he couldn't hear her. His eyes were distant, almost like he was actually sleeping.

The man climbed backward onto the wall, a single move away from the drop. And if he fell, there _would_ be screaming.

She crawled forward, in between Midnight and his opponent. Still unable to stand through her fear of heights, she clutched his coat and hoisted herself up to lean against his chest. Then looked into his eyes.

As when he slept, those eyes didn't see her. They were glassy—red rubies instead of swirling pools of blood. He wasn't aware of her touching him. Occasionally, his lip twitched in fear. His shoulders trembled. The nightmare he was forcing onto the man before him was born from his own fear.

"Macbeth…" She cupped his face in her hands and stared at his unseeing red eyes. She drew her magic forward and focused. Pink to red. Praying that this would work, even though he wasn't conscious of her looking at him. She'd never used her magic like this before…

 _Calm. Peace. Trust._

She conjured the words, imprinted them with power, willed them through the magic circles—willed them to transfer to him somehow—for the connection to be complete.

He blinked once. He was confused, like he could only partially see her. So, she tried again.

 _Calm. Peace. Trust. Trust._

Magical energy grew in her chest, creating pressure as she forced it to her eyes.

He blinked again. Now he was looking at her. Disoriented. _Afraid._

 _Trust. Trust. Love._

Once more, she pushed. The pressure built, throbbing in her veins, pounding in her chest. She was expelling so much magic—so much emotion.

The fear in his eyes dissipated. He could see her clearly now. She smiled warmly at him, still holding his face in her hands.

"Don't kill him, Macbeth. You're better than that."

He stared, eyes flickering back and forth between hers—lost in swirling pink. The wind blew through their hair, whipping white and cream together—fluttering the tail of his coat around her. Tears fell silently from the corners of his red eyes, falling to trace the curve of her thumbs. And the rain began to fall, as if the sky was breaking along with his illusion. As if the clouds could no longer bear the weight of the fear and sorrow. The weeping, broken sky. The weeping, broken man. Neither able to bear the weight any longer.

Behind her, the thug collapsed onto the ground. His breaths were raspy. He was unconscious, but alive.

Dreamer breathed out a shaking sigh of relief and leaned her body weight against Midnight. Her hands fell to weakly clutch his collar.

"You didn't kill Syllest," she whispered. She looked at his lips, parted just slightly. His lipstick, a dark shade of purple. A comforting hue, like the sky just after dusk, when the pinks and oranges fade away. "Pops was waiting to catch her, wasn't he?"

Her knees buckled and he instinctively caught her, stabilizing her with his arms. Holding her against his chest.

There was no reply. He simply stared into her eyes. But all ill intent was gone. The sadism absent from his face, to be replaced with the childish fear that lurked below the surface. A trembling lip. Silent tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. A scared, innocent… _lonely_ child.

"I knew you weren't a bad person," she said. "I knew all along…"

The exhaustion from expelling her magic and having her emotions completely wrung dry finally overtook her. The night sky spun, rain falling like tears upon her. But she was safe. She was steadied by his arms around her—by his fingertips clutching her shirt… by his chamomile scent, and the sound of his broken whimpers. By the knowledge that Midnight protected Syllestra by dropping her into Jezran's waiting arms. By the fact that this assassin chose to protect one life, and spare another.

 _You're not evil, Macbeth… You're a good man. One day, you'll see that too._

The world spun faster.

Her eyes closed.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, hopefully this chapter reaffirmed your faith in Midnight. ;)  
**

 **I love your reviews, guys. Seriously. I'm sorry I put you through a week of emotional torture waiting to know if he really dropped her off a building, but hey. I think you can forgive me now. xD**


	23. The Dreamcatcher

**Chapter 23: The Dreamcatcher**

It took Dreamer a moment to adjust, when she finally opened her eyes. After a moment's inspection, she realized that the soft cloud she was laying on was, in fact, a hotel bed. The white sky above her was actually a ceiling. The incessant ticking sound that in her dreams represented a clock of endless time, was actually Jezran's magical pocket watch.

Jezran sat nearby in a chair, legs crossed and hands folded on his lap as he politely waited for her to wake up. Midnight was there too, leaned against the wall and staring at her. But for the ticking of the pocket watch, there was utter silence.

It was sort of an unsettling situation to wake up in…

"Syllest…" She sat up with a groan, her body aching. The memories of the rooftop battle came flooding back to her, and all that mattered was knowing if Syllestra was okay.

Pops gestured toward the open door that connected the two hotel rooms. Dreamer could just make out a black blob of hair on the bed. Syllestra was safe and sound asleep. Nothing could have brought her more relief.

She leaned back against the pillow, wincing at the strain it put on her body. Using her magic, the way she had, had definitely taxed her. "What happened?"

"I took the criminal into custody and turned him in to the town guard, dear me," Jezran said with the tip of his hat.

"Oh…" she thought for a moment, as the cogs continued to work again in her brain. A spark of remembrance lit in her eyes, along with a spark of panic. "Did you question him first?" She looked between the two of them, frantically. "He worked for Res… He worked for _him_!" She glanced at the door to where Syllest was sleeping, worried that she would wake and overhear the conversation. "He's after her, Pops…" She lowered her voice to say this, pink eyes wavering in fear.

"Yes, that would appear to be the case, dear me…" Jezran sighed and unfolded his legs. "Unfortunately, the thug—Jacque, as it were—had very little information to offer. He had only been under the employ of The King of Diamonds for a very short period of time. Two months, approximately. And his employer was very secretive, dear me."

"King of Diamonds…" She repeated the name quietly. It felt like poison on her tongue.

"Yes. That is the name he has adopted, dear me."

A king? _Him?_ The only kingdom she could imagine that man reigning over, was hell. And if he had a royal line, it was a line of destruction. "Did Jacque know what he wants? With Syllest? What he's planning?"

Jezran simply shook his head. Dreamer's fists clutched the bed-sheet, white-knuckled and trembling. She couldn't stop thinking about how real he'd seemed. About how, for a brief moment, she thought she and Resmond were standing less than twenty feet from one another—the closest she had been to him since…

"I'm intrigued," Midnight spoke up. He looked questioningly at her and twisted a strand of white hair around his fingers. "Who is this 'King of Diamonds?'"

"No one," she snapped in immediate response. "It's absolutely none of your concern."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was highly unlike her to be so defensive. Except for when it came to Syllestra, it seemed.

"My dear," Jezran said gently, he made no effort to reach out to her, perhaps because he knew it would do no good. "There is nothing we can do for the time being. I have informed Master Makarov of the situation. You must not worry yourself to death, dear me."

She knew he was right, and yet… Her hands were still shaking.

Midnight watched her with a heightened curiosity, drawn by the obvious expressions of fear she was exhibiting.

She thought back to the battle—to the horrible nightmare and Resmond and Jacque… Then back to the mortifying image of Midnight's hand outstretched, manipulating the glove holding Syllestra's throat.

"On the rooftop…" She looked back up, at Jezran. "You were waiting to catch Syllest on that bike, weren't you?"

Jezran nodded. "It was sir Macbeth's plan all along." He cast his eyes on Midnight with a sort of guarded respect.

That was why there had been no screaming. That was why the child was breathing in the room next door.

She stood from the bed and took the three steps to where Midnight was standing. They stared at each other for a long moment. Her pink eyes were wilder than usual—not like slowly drifting cherry blossoms, but like petals caught in a hurricane. And his expression was empty, monotone red eyes fixed on hers in a totally unconcerned way.

 _SLAP_

Her palm connected with his cheek so quickly that he had no time to even gasp in surprise.

"You bastard…" She glowered at him while he clasped his hand over his cheek in utter astonishment, the red already spreading in a hand shaped print on his pale skin. "You traumatized her! Did you see how scared she was?!"

All she could think about was Syllest's terrified eyes as she stared at Midnight in front of her. The tears running down the child's face as someone she trusted morphed into a monster before her very eyes.

Midnight regained composure slowly. He could have hit her back and she knew it. Instead, his face was cold and calm—unremorseful.

"I had no choice," he said, coolly. "Had I showed kindness to Syllest, the _pig_ would not have fallen under my illusion of terror. I needed him to think I was a monster. I needed him trembling in fear."

Dreamer's lips pinched in disbelief and frustration. Tears welled up in her eyes but she forced them down, refusing to let them spill. She stared hard at him. "Don't you _ever_ do that again!"

He said nothing, just looked at her with the same stony expression.

Then, her eyes softened.

"Thank you…" she gave a small, weak smile. "You saved her."

He looked away without emotion—carefully and perfectly guarded.

She finally stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "We need to go home." Home, where it was safe.

"Agreed," Jezran nodded. "We were simply waiting for your recovery, dear me. I will go check us out of the rooms now." He stood and straightened creases in his pressed pant-legs.

Midnight put his thumbs in his pockets and walked out the hotel room door, with brisk intent. Neither Dreamer nor Jezran made any effort to follow him, despite the fact that he had complete control of his magical energy now, and he knew it.

Last night's events made her confident that he wouldn't run.

* * *

An hour later, Jezran, Dreamer, and Syllest stood in front of the hotel with their bags. The child had not said much, and Dreamer had no idea what to say to her either. The things happening around Syllest were much bigger than a seven-year-old could possibly comprehend. But the girl did understand some things. She understood that a man had tried to kidnap her. She understood that Midnight told the man to drop her. This combination of the things she did know and the thing she didn't, manifested itself in fear, shown by the way she clung to Dreamer's shirt from the moment she'd woken up, refusing to leave her side.

They hadn't seen Midnight since he walked out of the room earlier. Now they waited, uncertainly, for him to show up. Just as Jezran and Dreamer were debating going to the train station to wait, his dark form emerged from the crowd.

Syllest quickly wrapped her arms around Dreamer's leg and hid partially behind her. The sight made Dreamer's heart twist in pain and sorrow. She rested her hand on Syllest's head. "It's okay, sweetie. He's…" _What? Not bad?_ That wouldn't be true to tell her at all. Midnight _was_ bad. But… he was good too.

The man's red eyes rested on the child, and he stopped walking. His expression was still unreadable—his lips a hard line.

He took a knee, a few feet in front of her. He said nothing. Did not smile, nor frown, nor narrow his eyes or widen them. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace with a new black chain and a handmade dreamcatcher pendant. Not breaking her gaze, he reached up and clasped the necklace around his own neck.

Syllest's eyes opened wide. She thought for a long minute, staring at the crude dreamcatcher she'd made for him, securely nestled below his collarbone. She seemed conflicted, as if she wasn't sure this action would make up for the terror he'd put her through—as if she couldn't decide whether or not to trust the dual-haired, intimidating wizard kneeling a few feet away. She stepped forward, trembling ever-so-slightly as tears began to sparkle in her big eyes. Then…

"Macbeth!" She leapt at him, sending droplets of shining tears into the air behind her.

He gasped when she jumped into his arms and nuzzled her little face against his hair. His cheeks took a reddish hue, matching his retracted red eyes. With a shaking hand, he awkwardly patted her back in response, as she squeezed him tightly and cried into his hair.

Dreamer looked at Jezran, who was smiling warmly. He looked back and put an arm around her shoulder, giving a light squeeze. "You see, dear Dreamer?" He spoke gently and returned his gaze to Syllest and Midnight—where at the moment, Syllest was jabbering on and on about a rock she'd found while Midnight was unsuccessfully trying to pry her off of him. "Good has come from this weekend. You must not count it all as loss and fear. There is always hope, dear me. Was it not you who taught us all that very message?"

Tears rolled down Dreamer's cheeks and she nodded. She was overwhelmed with emotion at the example of repentance and forgiveness being played out in front of her very eyes—marked by the genuine smile that touched Midnight's lips when Syllest began to excitedly ramble about how "totally cool" he'd looked when he emerged from the fog on the rooftop. If there was hope for forgiveness here— _now_ —then there must always be some shred of it to be found anywhere, in any situation.

 _There is always hope, even for you, Macbeth._


	24. Magic Carpet-Ride Home

**Chapter 24: Magic Carpet-Ride Home**

Midnight and Dreamer stood in line for tickets at the train station. Nearby, Syllest was running in circles around a pillar, singing something along the lines of "Syllest and Romeo sitting in a tree, who's Syllest? Oh yeah that's me!" Jezran had apologized on the way to the station and said that he had something he desperately needed to do before they left, before vanishing without explanation.

"Dreamer." Midnight spoke up for the first time since they'd been in the hotel room.

"Hm?" She glanced over to be caught in a way-too-intense red stare.

"When did you intend on telling me that the magic limiter had been deactivated?"

She gulped nervously. "Well, I…"

"When was it deactivated? And why? You didn't go behind the back of your Master, did you?" He smirked cruelly. "Good little Dream, breaking the rules like a common criminal."

"I didn't go behind anyone's back!" she snapped. "Except… Well, except yours…" She sighed and straightened the folds of her shirt. "Master called me to his office later, without you. He agreed with me that you were the strongest wizard out of the three of us and that limiting you was a bad idea when we would be so far from home… But it was also dangerous to just remove the limiter to your knowledge so…" She avoided his judging gaze. "So, we had Freed release the enchantment while you were sleeping, but we told him to keep the code there so that you would think you were still being limited. That way, you could still be controlled but if there was an emergency, like with what happened last night, you would be able to help us. With my discretion, of course…"

"I didn't know you could be so devious, Dreamer." To her relief, his tone was more amused than angry. "Will I be put in chains again once we return home?"

She did not miss the subtle fact that he said "home."

"I don't know," the honest response. "But if Master leaves that choice up to me… Then I'd like to have the limiter removed completely."

His plum-colored lips turned up in a satisfied smirk. "Are you sure that's the best idea?"

She nodded seriously—stubbornly. "I'm sure."

They were next up in line.

"How can I help you today?" The woman behind the glass asked.

"Four tickets to Magnolia, please," Dreamer held up her fingers and smiled sweetly.

" _Two_ tickets," Midnight leaned forward to correct her. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"No, _four_ tickets," she started to slide some cash through the hole in the glass but Midnight placed his hand harshly on top of hers and met her eyes dead on.

" _Two_ tickets."

The woman behind the glass looked a bit stressed out. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the arguing couple. "So, um… Is that two tickets or four?" She uncertainly held up a handful of train tickets.

"Midnight, there's four of us! Jezran, Syllest, you, and me," Dreamer snapped under her breath. "What are you doing?"

"Only Jezran and Syllest need train tickets," he said coyly.

"What? Why?! We're not staying in Rose Garden!"

"Hey! Hurry it up will ya?!" Someone yelled in line behind them.

"Oh, Roger, let them be. This is probably their first lover's quarrel!"

Dreamer flushed and shook her head to ignore the chatter. She looked sternly at the lady at the counter. " _Four_ tickets," she said through gritted teeth.

" _Two_ tickets, unless you want your worst nightmares to come true," Midnight countered.

Dreamer willed up her magical energy and looked at the lady in the eyes. She smiled charmingly. " _Four_ tickets, please. _And_ you'll give them to us at a discounted price."

The lady looked both terrified and amazed.

"Kiss and make up, will you?!" Roger yelled.

"WE ARE NOT A COUPLE!" Dreamer shouted.

"I _could_ kiss you," Midnight said suddenly, drawing his face close to hers. She turned red as a cherry instantly and froze to the spot. Midnight laughed and held up two fingers to the lady at the window, who quickly shoved the tickets through and pulled the curtain down to show she was now closed for business. Dreamer was so stunned that she didn't even register that she'd lost.

"Ah, dammit, now we gotta get in another line…"

"Have fun on your honeymoon, you two!"

Midnight tugged the paralyzed Dreamer by her wrist, back to where Syllest was playing. Dreamer suddenly shook her head violently and shoved him. "W-What the heck was that about?! And why didn't you get four tickets?!"

He grabbed her briskly by the chin and narrowed his eyes, which sparkled like flames. "You broke your promise. Or have you forgotten?" His voice was a low hiss, no longer light and teasing.

He couldn't be talking about last night in the park, when she'd promised not to say a word to him, could he?

"Not only that, but you also lied to me about the magic limiter." His grip tightened painfully on her chin and he drew his face closer—so close that she could feel his chamomile breath on her lips. "And do not think I've forgotten when you smacked me." Baring his teeth. "That makes three offenses, sweet Dream. Three strikes." His thumb slid along her jaw. "That's enough to warrant punishment."

"Punishment?" Her throat was dry. "Just what do you think you're going to do?" She kept her posture straight and strong, refusing to be threatened into submission. Finally, he smirked and ran his tongue hungrily along his lips, a sight that sent chills down her spine.

He released her chin and suddenly shoved her backward where she landed uncouthly on his floating magic carpet. When the heck did that get there?

"You and I will be taking a different means of transportation back to Magnolia." A toothy grin spread across his evil face.

"W-What?! We're FLYING?!" She squeaked in terror, drawing the attention of the entire crowd.

"What's wrong? Does that frighten you?" Those gleaming, hungry eyes—thrilled by her fear.

"We can't! No, Midnight, I'll die! I'll literally die! Please, no! Anything but that! Not the heights, for the love of Mavis! I'll do anything, I swear, just please have mercy! I'd rather face Erza's wrath! I'd rather punch Elfman in front of Mirajane! I'd rather kick Gildarts in the nuts, or go three weeks without food, or eat sixteen poisonous mushrooms, or sleep in a pit of snakes and spiders, just please don't make me fly!"

But the more she protested, the wider and more sinister his smile became.

" _Mooom_ , where's Pops?" Syllest whined.

But Dreamer didn't hear her—she was too busy pleading for her life, hands clasped, trembling on a floating magical carpet.

Midnight's red eyes swirled with sadistic intent. "I am going to enjoy this immensely…"

* * *

Jezran was bowed so low that his mustache was brushing the ground below him.

"My deepest apologies, dear me."

In front of him stood a mother, father, and a little boy. They were pale with eyes almost as wide as their faces.

"Um… We forgive you, sir, but isn't all of this a little unnecessary?"

Behind them was a giant, luxurious new mansion—sparkling white in the sunlight. Three brand new magi-vehicles were parked in the circular driveway, next to a giant fountain of Aquarius. A company of about fifteen servants and butlers and chefs were all bowed politely at the door of the estate. Trumpets and angelic harps sounded in the distance. And in front of the little boy was a brand new magic bicycle, with a dazzling gold—14 karat—bow on it.

"I should never have stolen the lads bike without permission, dear me. Please, allow me to make amends."

"A new bike would have sufficed…"

"The Excalibur estate will be sending you payments of 500,000 jule every month until the lad is of age, along with a new magic bicycle each month, dear me."

The family all sweated nervously and gave each other forced smiles.

"Ah… Thank you… Sir Excalibur…"

* * *

 **The Fairy Tail Guild Hall** :

"Another Shirley-Temple, Piper?" Mirajane smiled warmly at the blue-haired man.

"I'd prefer a damn shot of whiskey, honestly," he grumbled, a cloud of gloom over his head.

"I'll take that for him, Mira," Cana slurred, sitting next to him. "I'll tell ya how it tastes."

"Ain't you's ever thought of soberin' up, Cana?" Piper snapped at her, showing some envy.

"Nah. I can hold my liquor and it doesn't turn me into a douche."

"T'anks for the words of encouragement." He mumbled a word beginning with "B" under his breath.

"What's your problem today anyway, Pipe?" The brunette slammed the shot and slid the glass back to Mira. "You mad you didn't win the race yesterday?"

"Nah, at least I didn't get stuck cross-dressin' for Sorcerer Weekly like Natsu and the others."

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"Then why the stick up the butt?" She leaned her elbow on the table and looked at him. "Is it because Dumbledore is off on vacation with Midnight?"

"Her name's Dreamer and _no_ , I don't give a damn what those two do or don't do wit each other! …MJ GIVE ME THAT SHIRLEY TEMPLE!"

"You're such a bad liar," Cana drawled. "Everyone in the guild can see you're jealous, you know."

"Everyone in the guild can suck my—"

"Shirley Temple!" Mira passed the cup in front of Piper with a cheery hop. Piper gave the glass a hateful glare before sipping on it with a straw. Man he missed alcohol.

"Can I ask you something?" Cana ran her finger around the rim of her beer glass and kept her eyes on his. "Have you ever even told Donna how you feel about her?"

"Dreamer," he corrected. His cheeks took on some color and he avoided her gaze. "I don't really need ta, you know. It ain't like she can't read emotions."

"Even if she couldn't, it _is_ pretty obvious," she shrugged.

"Then why the hell'd you ask me that?!"

"I think you'd feel a lot better if you just told her," she answered. She turned and leaned with her back and elbows against the counter, observing the guild hall with serious amethyst eyes.

"You're one to talk…" Piper said quietly. He caught Cana glance at him from the corner of his eye. "Why ain't you's told your old man the truth?" He said this low enough that no one could hear besides her, not even Mirajane, who was trying her darndest to eavesdrop while wiping down the counter.

Piper and Cana were actually fairly good friends. They'd spent a number of lonely nights playing cards in the guild hall while silently burying their individual regrets and fears. And though he craved alcohol like no other when he was around her, she kept him in check and she understood the way a good buzz could kill the pain. She'd opened up to him about her father last year, just before the S-class trial, while she was drunk and crying on the floor under a table in the guild hall at 2 AM. Piper had listened. He had sympathized. And he'd joined her under the table until she passed out cold and he carried her to a bed.

"I'm scared of rejection," she answered, uncharacteristically honest in her expression. Quiet and sad. "Especially after all these years hoping and waiting…"

"Well then you knows exactly how I feel." He scratched a mark on the counter.

"Yeah, I do." She sighed heavily. "I guess I'm a hypocrite." Long swig of beer.

"Hey, Cana…" Piper turned in his seat and offered a gentle smile. Her eyes widened a bit at the unusual softness in his emerald eyes. He lifted his Shirley-Temple. "To hypocrites."

She laughed and lifted her beer mug. "Alright. I'll drink to that." They cheered, sloshing beer froth and sprite between them. "To hypocrites."

* * *

Midnight's red eyes gleamed. After a half hour of screaming, crying, and even trying to strangle him at one point, Dreamer had terrified herself to sleep. Even still, her arms were like a vice grip around his waist.

Now would be a good time to end this. He could land the carpet and ditch her somewhere, and find a way to bust the Seis out of prison. He could do whatever he wanted. No magic limiter to hold him down. No threat of Syllest's life demanding action. He could do what he'd planned to from his first day stuck with all these Fairies. He could finally be free.

Dreamer mumbled and nuzzled deeper into his coat, which had long ago been wrapped around her to protect from both the cold and the sight of rooftops far below.

He gave a silent chuckle and fixed his eyes ahead, toward Magnolia.

He'd leave. He'd cast off Fairy Tail and Derelict Heart and talk of light and goodness. He'd return to the darkness where he belonged.

But… you know… One more night couldn't hurt.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! I hope you've enjoyed this little arc! Your reviews and messages are overwhelmingly kind and encouraging. It's truly a privilege to be able to write for people who legitimately love a story that has grown so close to my heart!  
**

 **There's much more of this story ahead for you! In fact, I just got done writing chapter 61. ;) Rest assured knowing you will have plenty to keep you occupied for weeks to come.**


	25. One Sweet Dream

**Chapter 25: One Sweet Dream**

Midnight dreamed.

* * *

Cold. Always so cold. The stench of blood, death, and feces fills the air. A girl cries as they beat her. The swish of a whip slicing through the air—through skin. _Help me_ she cries. _No one can help you._

The bell tolls. It hurts his ears. The screaming. The tolling. The laughter as they spill another child's blood. The panting of the fleshy demon dogs. Claws scraping, dragging, screeching on stone. The sobs. The tolling. They are doing worse things to the girl than beating her now. He squeezes his hands over his ears but he can still hear the sick sounds and above it all her wails… _Help me. Please stop. Help._ He's crying too. Because he can't help her. He can't help any of them. He's just as helpless as they are. Trapped. _No one can help you._

 _Please… If there is a God… I pray. Please make it stop. Please make the crying stop. Please make it quiet._

He squeezes his eyes shut but as soon as he does he sees the eye. Jellal's sadistic laugh, mocking him. _I am your God. And I will never let you sleep in peace._ The eye swallowing him and driving pain through his body. Unbearable pain. The pain of fists against his skin, hands pulling his hair, fleshy dogs gnawing on his arms and legs… The screaming hurts. The crying hurts. Everything hurts. He can't take it. He'd rather die. He'll do it. He'll kill himself.

The blade in his little, shaking hands. This will end the fear. This will set him free.

 _I won't let you,_ Jellal mocks. _You think death will set you free? You will never be free. You are mine. I am your God. Pray to me, Macbeth. Pray to me for mercy._

Bodies cast carelessly into a furnace. New ships dumping innocent children on the shore. They look so scared. They have no idea what real terror looks like…

The screaming. The crying. The helplessness. The endless noise. Not one moment of silence. Not one moment of peace…

And then.

It's gone.

It's… quiet.

He's not in the tower of heaven anymore. Wherever he is, it's warm. There's no screaming or crying.

Silence.

Silence at last.

The sky above is bright blue. There's grass below him, as soft as cotton. It flutters in a gentle breeze that wraps him up and warms away the cold from the cell floor. Golden sunlight blankets everything. Endless hills of grass. No scenery—nothing to distract from the peace and quiet. Golden sunlight, but no sun in the sky to be seen. The light comes from everywhere. There is no darkness here. No darkness, no cold, no pain, no noise…

He sits up. At the bottom of a hill he sees his friends.

There's Hoteye, eating half of a baked potato. No… He's not in torn clothes, crying for his brother… This little boy is in all white, with groomed hair and happy eyes. This isn't Hoteye, it's Richard. Richard eating half of a baked potato in the endless grass.

And Racer… No, Sawyer. He's rolling in the grass and smiling. So wide. So happy.

Sorano. She's in a little white dress, hands behind her head, smiling at the glowing blue sky.

Then there's Erik. His best friend. Wrapped in the grass by Cubellios, licking his boyish face. He sees him on the top of the hill, grins and waves.

"Macbeth!" He calls. "Come sit with us!"

So he does. He descends the grass and joins them on a picnic blanket. The other children greet him affectionately. Warm hugs. A kiss on the cheek from Sorano. A lick on the nose from Cubellios.

"Where have you been, Macbeth?" Sawyer asks, with grape jam on his cheeks.

"We've missed you," Richard adds.

"I don't know…" He can't seem to remember where he's been or where he left in the first place. There is only this place. This warm world where the only sound is the laughter and gentle chatter from his friends.

They eat and play. Sawyer runs from Cubellios over the hills. Sorano makes white butterflies appear in her hands and flutter toward the sky. Richard falls asleep with a smile. Erik braids his friend's hair and jokes about how he looks like a girl.

"I think it's time." Sorano stands up. She changes, suddenly. Her childlike form grows into that of a woman, in feathers that accentuate a large bust, curves, an air of importance.

He notices that all of his friends have grown up. Richard is big, with a face like a diamond. Sawyer wears glasses and resembles a penguin. Erik looks strong. Mature.

He's grown up too. He looks down at his leather vest, long torso.

"Let's go, Macbeth." Erik says this. The others stand at his back and stare expectantly at him.

"Where?"

Where will they go? Is there some place besides this?

"Anywhere we want," Sorano answers with a gentle coo.

"We're free now," Sawyer adds.

 _Free._ That's right… He's free now. He can go anywhere. He can do anything. And as long as he's with his friends then what could be missing?

He starts to follow. A few steps on the soft grass and then something stops him. He's not sure what it is. Something feels… _wrong_. He can't place it but… there's an emptiness somewhere. A longing. Something is missing, something he's familiar with.

"Wait…" He looks at his friends. "We can't leave yet."

"What do you mean we can't leave?" Erik crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes. "What's gotten into you, man?"

"Something's missing." He's sure of it now. It's something he knows is important but he can't seem to remember. Something like… pink flower petals floating on the breeze. Like the scent of key-lime pie, fresh air, and flowers.

Sorano looks beyond his shoulder. Her lips part in awe. The others follow suit, and she whispers:

"An angel."

He turns and sees her standing a little way off. Her eyes are cherry blossoms. Her hair is honeyed cream tossed by the gentle breeze, her skin the porcelain teacup. She wears a dress of flowers. She smiles and he knows that she is the reason there is no sun in this place. _She_ is the sun.

 _Dreamer._

Giggling echoes in the dreamscape. A very different sound than the crying and screaming from before. This is a laugh he knows well, too. A little girl giggling and dancing and twirling on the outskirts of his vision, streamers of black hair following her.

 _Syllestra._

"You can't leave, Beth. What the hell are you thinking?" Another voice calls out to him. He turns back to his friends, and Gajeel Redfox is among them. He looks just as irritated as Erik, but his eyes are gentle.

He feels strange. Light and airy. Everyone is here. There is nothing missing. But he's confused… He feels small. The golden world feels big.

"Are you happy, Macbeth?" Erik asks.

"Happy?" He isn't sure he knows what that word means. He feels something right now. But it is happiness? Mostly, he feels unsteady. Strange. Confused.

"Have you found your freedom?" Richard reiterates. That makes more sense. Freedom and happiness are one in the same. He knows this. If he has found his freedom than he has found happiness.

But…

"I don't know…" He looks from Dreamer's serene face to the faces of his friends. Listens to Syllest's giggle bounce from hill to hill. "I don't know what freedom is anymore."

Sawyer tilts his head back and the breeze ruffles his hair. He smiles. "Freedom is the wind."

Erik strokes Cubellios' chin and smiles at him. "Freedom is friendship."

Sorano gazes up at the sky and outstretches her hand toward Dreamer's silhouette in the distance. "Freedom is in the eyes of your angel."

Richard raises both hands to the sky. "Freedom is love. Oh yeah."

Gajeel is suddenly holding a guitar, grinning at him. "Freedom is the music in your soul, man."

So many answers… He thinks they must all be the right one. But how can freedom be all of those things at the same time? He doesn't understand…

"Macbeth…" She calls out his name like a lullaby. He looks at her, lost in the magic in her eyes. "Only _you_ can decide what freedom means to you. What is your freedom?"

Her words permeate something deep inside of him. He looks at her. Looks at all of his friends. Looks at the blue sky and the dancing specter along the hills. He feels like the answer is here somewhere. It's so close…

 _What is my freedom?_

* * *

Midnight opened his eyes. He wasn't sure what woke him. For possibly the first time in his life, it might have simply been that he'd slept well. His heart wasn't pounding. It was beating evenly in his chest. He wasn't struggling to fend off the hold of a nightmare that refused to release him as he forced his eyes open. He was opening his eyes slowly—peacefully becoming aware.

A flowery scent wafted over him. Dreamer's face began to register in his waking brain, inches away from his. Her soft fingertips dropped away from his temples. Her long eyelashes fluttered tiredly over the infinity pink eyes. And she sat back on her haunches with a heavy, relieved sigh.

"Thank you." She smiled at him. Her face was weary, skin pale, bags under her eyes. But her smile was genuine. "For protecting Syllest in Rose Garden. I'm sorry if using my magic on you was uncalled for, but… I wanted to express my gratitude for everything you've done for us. I wanted to give you one sweet dream."

It was beginning to make sense now. The reason his nightmare had changed so suddenly into that gentle dream he'd had… He'd never dreamed like that. Not once that he could remember. It was Dreamer's doing. Somehow, she'd used her magic to give him a good dream instead of a nightmare.

"I can't make all of your nightmares go away. That's the best I can do." She looked sadly at her hands folded in her lap. "I can only offer you a few moments of reprieve."

He said nothing. He could only stare at her—at this woman who had done the impossible. What she'd done was nothing short of a miracle, an answer to the prayer he'd prayed for endless nights in the Tower of Heaven. She'd given him peace and quiet. Good dreams. One sweet dream… A few moments of reprieve.

He felt tears dripping from his jaw. Had he been crying all along?

She smiled tightly at him and began to stand. She swayed slightly, as if she were weak—as if doing this thing for him had had an enormous toll on her body. Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaning on the wall for support as she left the room he shared with Piper.

When he knew he was alone, he looked up at the ceiling and began to sob.

"T-Thank you," he cried, choking on the tears that wouldn't stop flowing. "Thank you, Dreamer Cumula…"

An angel had answered his prayer at long last.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you guys liked this chapter! In case you hadn't figured it out, this chapter is the namesake for the fic. I always think of it as a pivotal turning point for Midnight. Give me your thoughts!  
**

 **I am so humbled. You guys dropped eight reviews for me on that last chapter! I'm beginning to really feel like you're falling in love with this story the way I have, and that's the coolest feeling to get to share with all of you. Few things bring such joy. So again, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your support and encouragement and all-in-all love for my work.**

 **Simana, I was waiting this whole time for someone to comment on the continuous butchering of Dreamer's name. xD I'm not sure why, but that gag kills me.**

 **QuestionablyCapableGhoul, I almost fell out of my chair laughing at the comment that Midnight is becoming tsundere. In some ways, he really is. xD**

 **All of you: I hope I can continue to serve you and make your weeks a little more exciting with a dose of Midnight. ;) And since this week is special for some, what with Valentines day on Tuesday, I would be willing to post another chapter in honor of the holiday IF you guys want. (It seems fitting to celebrate the holiday of love, considering we have such an adorable Middream to celebrate with.) Let me know, and I'll post an extra chapter!**


	26. An Assassin's Guilt

**A/N: Alright you guys! It was unanimous that I should post another chapter this week in celebration of Valentines Day! In retrospect, I probably should have written some cute, fluffy Middream filler to publish today, but alas. The best I can do is publish the next chronological chapter, which is less than cheery, cute, or fluffy. Still, I hope you all enjoy and continue to follow Midnight on this roller coaster of a journey he's on! And I do try to sprinkle humor into the story when things are too intense, so hopefully the intro gives you a few giggles.**

* * *

 **Chapter 26: An Assassin's Guilt**

It was another day in the Fairy Tail guild hall. Midnight was asleep on his flying carpet in front of the stage, which seemed to be his favorite spot to be during the hours he wasn't doing chores for the guild. Strange, for a man who wanted peace and quiet so badly, that he actually _preferred_ to be in the chaotic guild hall while he slept.

"Yo, Midnight," Gajeel Redfox walked up to the magic carpet and folded his arms over his chest. "Wake up, I got something to ask you."

Midnight snored in response.

"I wouldn't do it, bubs!" Piper yelled from a table nearby. "Most of the time he ain't too nice when ya wake him up. Trust me, I live with the guy."

"What's he gonna do, throw lipstick at me?" Gajeel scoffed. "Hey, Midnight!" His voice raised. "Wake the hell up!"

"I'm tellin' you's. He's got his magic back now." Piper shrugged and looked back at the cards in his hand. "Hit me," he said to Cana, who was currently the blackjack dealer.

"Did you say Midnight has his powers back?!" Natsu barreled through the crowd, baring canines through his excited grin. "Alright! Now we can have our fight, finally!" He cracked his knuckles. "I wanted to kick this guy's ass on Nirvana but Erza got to have all the fun! Wake up, sleepyhead! Let's go!"

"HEY I WAS HERE FIRST!" Gajeel slammed an iron fist on Natsu's head.

"Ow, that really hurt…" Natsu whined.

"Wake up, man, I wanna talk to you." Gajeel knelt down and poked Midnight's cheek.

"I'll wake him up!" Natsu's fist caught fire and he swung it with a leap toward Midnight's face. There was a metallic whirring sound and Natsu's fire engulfed fist suddenly punched him in his own face, sending him flying into the wall.

"Morning," Gajeel said with a chuckle. Midnight slowly blinked.

"If you don't have a good reason for waking me up, I'll kill you," he said darkly, which just made Gajeel smile wider.

"I actually ain't looking for a fight."

"Oh yeah! Well I am!" Natsu barked from across the room.

"Will you shut up already?!" Gray shouted at him.

"What was that iceboy?"

"You wanna go, firebreather?!"

"Not until you put some clothes on, pervert!"

"That's it!"

A battle broke out behind them. Gajeel and Midnight didn't seem phased at all. This was the norm.

"I heard you make a good cake," Gajeel said, still crouched in front of the carpet.

"…I make a _damn_ good cake," Midnight corrected.

"Think you could whip me up something?" Gajeel asked, hungrily. Midnight's eyes narrowed.

"You woke me up to ask me to bake for you?"

"That a problem?"

Sparks erupted between their eyes, a darkness looming over them. Until Midnight smirked and began to stretch like a cat on his rug. "Not at all."

"Great. Think you can put some metal in it?"

Midnight cocked his head to the side and thought, while running a tongue along his lips. "Iron… Cinnamon… Sage…" He gave a brief nod. "I'll do it. After I make Erza's daily dozen." He yawned.

"Alright!"

"Hey, Midnight," Natsu paused in mid punch. "Could you make something with fire in it?"

"How about a beer cake?" Cana asked.

"Can you make a cake with love?!" Juvia squeaked from where she'd been stalking Gray and Natsu's battle.

"I have a sign-up sheet over here for Midnight's cakes!" Mirajane called from the counter. A line quickly formed.

"Thanks, man," Gajeel stood upright.

"It will come at a price," Midnight said suddenly.

"Oh yeah?" Gajeel raised an eyebrow and his posture became defensive. "What kind of price?"

Midnight averted his gaze with just the hint of a blush. "Teach me… to play guitar." He said, in a mumble so low that only a dragon slayer could hear.

Gajeel laughed out loud. "That's all? You got it! I'll give you some private lessons. Then we'll be bad ass enough to start our own band. We'll call it… Redfox and the Jazzettes!"

"I don't think so."

"Gajeel and the Angst Girl?"

"Are you insulting me?"

The playful arguing continued on—the guild roaring with activity and silliness. That is, until the doors slammed open and Erza Scarlet strode in with a sense of foreboding purpose.

The guild hall was instantly silent. She had that look in her eyes. The serious, "no bull-shit" look. She walked straight forward, members parting to give her a wide berth as she approached the stage.

"Midnight." He voice was stern and commanding. The dark mage visibly shrank as she got closer, remembering all too vividly how he lost to her on Nirvana.

"…Titania." He glared up at her, expression not matching the practically fetal position he was in.

"You will assist me on a job. Right now."

Eyes widened all over the room and whispering broke out.

"Me?" He stared at her, mouth parted in shock.

"Was I not clear?" Her face was as hard as stone. "Where is Dreamer?" She looked at the guild hall members, who immediately, frantically began looking busy.

"Erza, she's getting some rest," Mirajane called back. "You know she—"

"I'm right here." Dreamer's voice interrupted. She stood at the doorway to the east half of the guild. She looked tired but determined.

"I will require your assistance as well. Both of you, come with me." She turned on her heels and started for the door.

Dreamer and Midnight shared a confused look. He opened his mouth to argue but she shook her head. Erza was in no mood for complaints. Dreamer crossed over to the carpet and offered a hand to Midnight. He took it and stood up before shrinking the carpet into a manageable size and tossing it to Gajeel. "Keep this safe for me."

The two wizards quickly followed Erza Sacrlet out the door, with no idea what to expect at this point.

"Excuse me, Erza?" Dreamer spoke up after several minutes of following the clank of Erza's boots on the pavement. "Would you mind telling us what this is about?"

The redhead sighed heavily and did not look back at them. "Fairy Tail received a peculiar job request recently. You see, as a legal guild with standards of employment, there are certain types of requests we do not accept. Levy receives all of the requests made to Fairy Tail and sorts through them before appropriate requests are posted to the job board. Requests that require illegal activity are immediately discarded and never reach the board for consideration."

Dreamer glanced at Midnight, not sure where this was going.

"As Levy was sorting through the requests recently, she came across one that she decided to give to me, rather than discard. This is the request." She stopped walking suddenly and pulled a folded up paper out of her armor. She shoved it into Dreamer's hand, who unfolded it and began to scan it over with her eyes.

"This… is an assassination request."

"Indeed." Erza's face was serious.

Dreamer's heart pounded somewhere in her throat when she looked at the description and sketch of the desired target. With a rock in the pit of her stomach and a knot in her throat, she handed the request to Midnight. He looked it over with wide eyes, hands trembling slightly, as Dreamer recited what she'd just read.

"This is a request for the assassination of the Infamous Night Terror, Midnight of the Oracion Seis."

Erza gave a serious nod. She placed her hands on her hips and looked seriously at Midnight, who was looking both perplexed and frightened.

"The woman who filed this request is a victim of the Oracion Seis." Erza's tone was cold and hard. "Two years ago, her husband was murdered by the Night Terror and she is set on revenge."

"Wait, wait, hold on a second!" Dreamer stepped between Erza and Midnight and looked desperately up at Erza's face. "I still don't understand! Why call us out here? I mean, obviously you're not going to complete this job request, right? It's not like you're going to kill Midnight! …Are you?"

Erza looked away from Dreamer's eyes, aware of the type of magic the emotion mage wielded. Instead, she looked beyond her to Midnight, whose eyes were still glued to the request, breaths shallow.

"Do you remember what I said to you during our battle, Midnight?"

He looked up at her. His lips trembled.

"I told you that in order to become strong, one must first know his weaknesses and then strive to correct them. Have you thought about those words? Have you considered your weaknesses?"

Midnight looked at the ground. He gritted his teeth and when he spoke, it was clear he was forcing himself to sound defiant and strong, despite the emotions stirring within him. "My only weakness is that I underestimated you in battle, Titania."

"I see." Erza turned and began to walk again. "If that is truly what you believe, then you will never become strong. You will never achieve the freedom you seek."

"Erza, please wait!" Dreamer scurried after her and looked nervously at Midnight trudging slowly behind. "What are you going to do?"

"Dreamer, this situation will be very volatile. I will count on you to control it."

"I…" Dreamer sighed in defeat. It seemed Erza wouldn't be giving any more information than that. "I'll do my best." She looked back at Midnight, whose face was carefully guarded now, as it had been after the battle on the rooftops in Rose Garden. He was desperately trying to hide a storm of feelings. Fear and rage… She didn't have to read him to know those were the primary emotions battling for control in his heart.

Several minutes later the group reached Kardia Cathedral. Erza led them along the side, to the fenced graveyard behind it. Dark clouds slowly crept across the sky, obscuring the sun. A fitting setting for a graveyard.

In front of a grave to the left, a woman sat on her knees, crying. Erza motioned for Dreamer and Midnight to stay put, while she approached the woman and gently placed a hand on her back to get her attention.

The woman and Erza exchanged words. Erza's stone cold face was tender when she spoke to the lady. Midnight and Dreamer stood stiff and silent by the gate, not saying a word to one another. After a few moments, the woman stood and wiped her tears away before giving Erza a brief nod. Erza nodded back and then gestured toward the gate. Toward Midnight.

The woman's eyes locked with his. Immediately, tears spilled from her eyes again. She clenched her hands into fists and began to shake. Erza clapped a hand on her shoulder and sent Dreamer a meaningful gaze. Taking the cue, Dreamer stepped forward and met the woman's eyes.

 _Calm. Safe. Peace._

The woman's shaking subsided, but her hate-filled eyes locked back onto Midnight.

"Y-You caught him," she stuttered. "The Night Terror. It's really him, isn't it?"

"The man you see before you is, in fact, Midnight of the Oracion Seis," Erza confirmed.

Midnight was rooted to the spot. He gazed coldly back into the woman's eyes. His trembling hands were buried in his coat pockets.

"You…" The woman took a step toward him. "You _monster_! Do you have any idea what you did to this family?! To my husband?! H-How could you? How could anyone kill in cold blood like that?!" Her eyes were full of two years of hate, bitterness, agony.

Midnight stared at her in response, as still and rigid as the headstones around them.

The woman shook violently and pulled a frayed and folded picture out of her pocket. Through sobs she screamed, "Do you remember?! Do you even remember the faces of the ones you've killed?! Do you remember my husband's face?!" She walked two more steps forward and held the picture out to him. A picture of a smiling family. A woman, her husband, their son…

Only now did Midnight's face show emotion. His lips parted, eyes widened at the picture. It seemed he recognized the face of the dead man.

"His name was Alfonzo! He wasn't even one of the smugglers! He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that didn't matter to you, you sadistic demon!"

"Dreamer." Erza commanded, as the woman began to spiral out of control.

"Ma'am…" Dreamer called out to her and the woman glanced at her briefly. Just long enough.

 _Calm. Calm. Control._

Her teeth clenched and she looked back at Midnight, her face drenched in tears. "My son… He watched you do it. Did you know that?"

Midnight took a step back. A stumble. Like her words carried a physical blow.

"He was hiding in the closet," the woman's voice was low and dripping with the hurt. The uncontrollable pain. The bitterness. "He witnessed the nightmares you forced on Alfonzo… And he watched his own father… j-jump out the window to escape the terror…" She put her face in her hands and choked on sobs.

Dreamer's hands clasped together and tears formed in her own eyes. Her heart broke for this woman's loss.

"My son wasn't so lucky…" She glared at Midnight again. "He can't escape the terror… He has nightmares every night because of what you did! I hate you! You deserve to rot in hell! You deserve to live through that torture every day for the rest of your miserable existence! I hate you, bastard! Murderer!" She started to run at Midnight, who stumbled back against the gate, but Erza's hands gripped the woman's arms.

"You'll do it, won't you?!" The woman shouted desperately at Erza. "You'll turn him in to the Magic Council? They'll rip the magic out of his body and make him suffer!"

Erza's face was firm, but there was brokenness in her eyes as well. "He is being forced to work to atone for his sins," she said, gently.

"That's not enough! It will never be enough!" The woman wept and collapsed to the ground. "Alfonzo…"

Droplets of rain began to fall. The only sounds were the slight drizzle and the hyperventilating sobs from the woman on the graveyard ground. Until…

"Mom?"

A child's voice came from the back door of the church. It was the little boy from the picture. A boy with long black hair and pale skin. A boy stricken to the spot as he took in the scene.

"Blaise, what are you doing here?!" The woman gasped. "Go! You can't—"

But it was too late. Innocent eyes found the man leaning against the gate. They drifted up the cloak, past the fur scarf, the black lips, to the red eyes.

An ear shattering scream pierced the air.

The boy ran to his mother, tripping over headstones, falling on his face but standing up again to run as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Mom! It's the demon! It's him!" He screamed in panicked, choking gurgles.

"Dreamer, is there anything you can do?" Erza demanded.

"I…" Could she? The weight of this emotion was much heavier than her magic could handle. Especially now…

"Blaise?" She called out to him. But the little boy wouldn't look at her. He was staring at Midnight, whose legs couldn't carry his weight anymore. The man had slid down onto the grass. His hands were clasped over his ears, eyes wide and staring back at the child. He looked like a child himself—and Dreamer recognized this stance from his nightmares. The child's scream must have taken him back to a time when screaming was all he knew.

"He's a monster!" the boy screeched. He was so terrified that he clutched his stomach and dry-heaved onto the grass, in his mother's arms.

"Dreamer!" Erza's voice was an order.

Dreamer quickly stepped to the mother and child. She grabbed ahold of the boy's shoulders and made him look at her. "Blaise, you have to look at me. You have to trust me."

She forced as much energy into the magic circles in her eyes as she could, despite the pressure it put on her skull.

 _Trust. Calm. Safe. Calm. Peace. Trust. Safe, Safe, Safe. Hope. Calm. You're safe. Don't be afraid. He can't hurt you. He won't hurt you. Trust me. Trust us. Safe. Calm. Hope._

She poured her magical energy into him, until the child's breathing evened. His eyes relaxed.

Dreamer panted for breath as a jolt of pain went through her torso and ricocheted in her head, but she kept a warm smile. She looked up at the mother and willed the same emotion on her. _You're safe now._

When the boy looked at Midnight again, he was still scared, but also strangely serene, like he was under a spell—because, well he was.

"Why… Why did you kill my dad?"

Midnight rocked where he sat and then pressed his palms on the ground, head lowered, tears dropping onto the grass below him. His body was wracked with sobs, fingernails digging into the soil.

"I was scared!" Midnight cried. He looked up at the boy. His tears left trails of mascara on his cheeks. Eternal sorrow eclipsed his eyes. Fear.

" _Y-You_ were scared?" The boy looked like he couldn't believe his ears.

"I'm sorry…" Midnight wept. His pleading cries filled the graveyard. "I'm so sorry! I can't take it back! I can't take your nightmares away… I didn't mean… I never meant to hurt a child… I… I'm so sorry!" He looked up at the sky, at the rain falling down on them all.

Time stood still. The rain drummed—fingertips on the earth, on the headstones. Tears from the sky fusing with the salty tears flowing from every eye. Even Erza… tears rolling from her one eyes, shoulders shaking. Here in this moment, time meant nothing. Sorrow from the past and present all held the same meaning. All the emptiness, the fear, the hate, the rage, the regret… cracking time around them—splintering rational thought. In what world… In what version of time could a murderer and innocent victim weep together? It was as if the rain and tears wiped away their identities. They were both the victim. They were both frozen in the splintering, fragile wood of time…

Somehow, eventually, time righted itself. Mother and child watched from the headstone of a lost soul as an armored woman led away the ghost who haunted their waking and sleeping hours. Somehow, impossibly, time deposited Midnight, Erza, and Dreamer on a bench in Magnolia in the rain. Time made the moments in the graveyard seem long gone.

"Why, Erza?" Dreamer stared at the other woman through dripping strands of hair. "Why did you do that? Weren't they traumatized enough?"

Erza returned her gaze, scarlet hair drenched flat against her head. "That family needed closure. And Midnight needed to see firsthand the consequences of his sins. The reason he must atone."

Midnight might have been asleep. It was impossible to tell. His eyes were closed, body shivering in the cold rain. He trembled like a leaf in a cruel wind, unable to find solace. He was still lost in time. Lost in fear.

"It was too much…" Dreamer looked compassionately at him. Her fingers rose and combed through his soaked black hair.

"I understand that you have faith in him, Dreamer." Erza clasped her hand on Dreamer's shoulder to get her attention. "However… There are many things he has done which must be accounted for. You must do what's right and allow him to experience the due punishment for his sins, if you ever hope for him to truly be free." The way her brown eyes shimmered with emotion told Dreamer that she was speaking from experience. She empathized with Dreamer's feelings. She too held someone dear to her—someone who needed to atone for his own sins.

"Oh, Erza…" Dreamer cried out and threw her arms around the other woman, and wept against her. Erza hesitated, then returned the embrace.

The three of them remained under a gray, unforgiving sky. Each contemplating life, death, and remorse. The question raining down repeatedly on them.

Jellal… Midnight… People who caused countless lives to be affected, destroyed. People who carved their names on the endless wood of time above a list of their sins.

 _Is_ there freedom for those whom have taken the freedom of others?


	27. Colorless Eyes

**Chapter 27: Colorless Eyes**

It was after hours at the guild hall again. Mirajane was cleaning up the bar. Piper was sitting on a bench, looking glum (kind of a constant thing ever since Dreamer first brought Midnight to Fairy Tail), and Lucy was on guard duty—which meant that Happy and Natsu would be in the guild hall all night too.

The blonde was currently reading the dragon slayer her favorite children's book. He was sitting on the ground cross-legged, listening with a perplexed expression. Happy was rolling around lazily on the floor with a ball of string, nimbly avoiding the mop as Kinana cleaned. Lucy closed the book shut with a satisfied THUD and smiled at Natsu.

"And that's Key of the Starry Skies." She sat it down on the desk. "Well? What do you think?"

Natsu cocked his head to the side with a frown. "Eh. I don't like it."

"What?!" Her chocolatey eyes widened. "Why not?!"

"It doesn't make any sense." He stretched and yawned. "And it needs dragons!"

"Aye! And the little girl should have been collecting fish! Not stupid keys!" Happy gave his input.

"Oh, please! You two wouldn't understand good literature if it punched you in the face!" Lucy's temple pulsed.

"Ooooh, I wish a book would punch me in the face!" Natsu jumped up into a fighting stance. "I'd kick its butt!"

"I don't think books have butts, Natsu," Happy said.

Lucy looked irritated for another moment before her face relaxed and she laughed. "You can be so cute sometimes, Natsu."

Natsu and Happy froze. Natsu stared at Lucy like she was an alien. "I'm… cute?"

Lucy's cheeks took on some color like she was just realizing what she'd said. "Well, yeah!" She stuck to her word and rolled her eyes. "When you're not being annoying!"

Natsu slumped with a dramatic pout. "I don't wanna be cute…" A cloud hung over his head. "I want to be cool."

"Good luck with that!" Happy said, helpfully. "You're just about as cool as Lucy!"

"HEY! What's that supposed to mean, cat?!"

"What are you talking about, Happy?!" Natsu perked up. "Lucy is totally cool! Remember how she kicked that Angel girl's butt in the forest?! She summoned like ten spirits!"

Lucy blushed and stared at Natsu with big eyes. "You… were actually paying attention to that battle?"

"Well yeah, duh!" He started to re-enact it with sound effects. "I was sick, not dead!"

"I don't know, I still think she's pretty lame," Happy shrugged.

"YOU'RE LAME YOU STUPID CAT!" Her face softened and she smiled warmly at Natsu's animated portrayal of the battle. "I didn't know you paid so much attention to me, Natsu…"

At the counter, Mira was leaning forward and watching the scene unfold with sparkling eyes. "I ship them so hard!" She squealed to Piper.

"Give me a break, will ya doll?" Piper groaned. "If I hear one more second of your lovey dovey crap, I'm gonna puke." He numbly rolled his dice repeatedly on the counter.

"Piper…" Mira stood up straight and continued wiping the counter. "How long are you going to stay mad at Dreamer?"

He sighed and watched one of his dice roll off the counter. "You's got it all wrong, MJ. I ain't mad at her…" He got off the stool to retrieve the die. "I'm mad at myself, ya know?"

"Why on earth are you mad at yourself?" her ocean blue eyes blinked at him.

"Come on, Mira, you's can figure it out." He gave another heavy sigh. "Dreamy and Syllest was in danger in Rose Garden and I wasn't even there ta help 'em." A dark shadow crossed his emerald eyes. " _He_ had to do it. If I can't even be there to protect the gals I care about then… Then what the hell am I needed for anyway?"

"Piper…" Mira's face was uncharacteristically serious. "Don't be silly." She spoke to him in a motherly tone. "Dreamer and Syllestra are always going to need you. You keep acting like Midnight is going to replace you… Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?" She smiled gently at him. "Do you really think Dreamer is the kind of person who's going to forget about you, just because there's a new friend in her life? And is it such a bad thing that there's one more person out there who wants to be there for her?"

Guilt shadowed the lines on Piper's face. He sighed. "I know it ain't, I just…" He clenched a trembling fist. "I don't want her to get hurt, ya know, doll?"

Mirajane nodded in empathy. "I do know. Dreamer is my best friend." Her smile was still gentle and serious. "I care about her safety and happiness just as much as my little brother's, and with the same passion as you, Piper. But we can't let our love for her be overshadowed by our fear of her getting hurt."

"Yeah… You're right…" He slouched in defeat.

"I think you should talk to her. Or…" Mira's smile brightened. "You should talk to Midnight!"

"The hell I will."

"I'm serious!" Mirajane grinned. "Maybe if you guys talk, you'll feel more comfortable about her safety."

"Hell. No."

"Oh, Piper, you just need—"

The guild hall doors opened up and in skipped a little black-haired seven-year-old.

"Hi, Lucy! Hi Natsu! Hi, Happy! Hi, Kina!" She skipped over to the bar and climbed up next to Piper before throwing her arms around his neck in a hug. "Hi, Uncle Piper! Hi, Auntie Mira!"

"Syllest?" They blinked at her. "Kid, why's you out wanderin' at night?"

"Where's your mom?" Mira asked.

Syllestra shrugged and spun on her seat. "I dunno. I haven't seen her since I got home from school."

Mirajane and Piper shared a startled look.

"I got bored at home. And hungry. So, I came here!" She climbed on the counter. "Can you make me a sandwich, Auntie?!"

"Yes, of course…" Mira shared a look with Piper, who nodded. He'd go out looking for Dreamer. It was completely unlike her to leave Syllestra at home alone for ANY period of time. Let alone the hours it had been since the school day ended. And neither Piper nor Mirajane had heard of her having any plans. "Maybe she's with Jezran?"

"I'll check with him first," Piper jumped off the stool and started for the door. "Yo, Natsu!"

"Huh? What's up?"

"I could use some back up. You game?"

"Hell yeah I am! I'm all fired up!" Natsu flexed and lit a fire in his palm.

"Does that mean I have to go?" Happy complained. "Because I was just starting to get comfortable…" Kinana had set out a pillow on one of the tables for him.

"Nah, get some rest, buddy." Natsu waved and started after Piper toward the main doors. They were halfway across the floor before the doors opened on their own.

There, standing in the wind, weakly clutching the doorframe, was Dreamer. She looked up at Mirajane.

Her eyes were as colorless as stone. No hint of pink. No brightness.

Mira put her hands to her mouth and gasped. Piper ran to Dreamer's side just in time to catch her as she collapsed. She opened her pale lips and weakly whispered.

"Mira…" Thunder boomed outside, nearly drowning out her desperate words. "It's time."

* * *

 **A/N: All of your responses to last week's chapters were so encouraging you guys!  
**

 **LotsOfTreble, you mentioned that all the Midnight fics you've found on the internet have been lemons, and howlingwolvesonfire mentioned how this is a true redemption fic. Seriously, I feel your pain, you guys. That's why I wrote this fic! I used to scour the internet for hours to find quality Midnight/Oracion Seis material and there was just so little of it! Anything that wasn't Midnight x Reader lemony garbage, was Midnight x Cobra material or worse... MidLu... *shudders* That is not to say I have a problem with gay ships (have any of you seen the LaharxDoranbolt one-shot I just posted?), but I hate that Midnight is stereotyped to be gay because of his J-Rock style. I hate that no one has taken the time to look at the members of the Oracion Seis as the unique group that they are. They're not typical villains, if they can even be called villains. That's why I've always been drawn to them and why I couldn't pass up the opportunity to explore true redemption for Midnight/Macbeth.**

 **That's just my little two-cents on the subject. It's so refreshing to find so many people who like these characters as much as I do, and who see their worth as more than just back-seat minor villains.**

 **Sorry for the short cliffhanger. I'll make it up to you, I promise. ;)**


	28. The After-Effects Of Emotion Magic

**A/N: Alright, guys. I've gotten so many requests for me to publish more than once a week, that I've decided to compromise. I'll post two chapters every other week, on Monday and Friday. I know it's not twice or three times a week, but at least it's a little extra for you loyal readers. Keep in mind, the only reason I space it out so much, is for your benefit. The last thing I want is for you all to catch up with me, then I fall behind because life gets too busy, and you end up waiting months between chapters (that's legitimately my biggest pet peeve. Authors who don't update regularly). But I can afford an extra chapter every other week for you guys. ;)**

 **So this week you get an extra chapter, next week I'll only post on Monday, and the week after that I'll post twice and so on.**

* * *

 **Chapter 28: The After-Effects of Emotion Magic**

It was early the following morning. The guild had just opened up and people were groggily showing up to start the day. Most were entirely unaware of the action unfolding in the east hall infirmary, where Dreamer had been taken the night before and was now being monitored by Master Makarov and Wendy Marvel. In front of the infirmary doors sat Mira. Piper paced in front of her, dark circles under his eyes.

"I gotsta see how she's doin.'" He started for the door but Mira barred his way.

"Piper, Master told us to stay out for a reason," she said this kindly, but there was a warning in her eyes.

He cursed under his breath and continued to pace. He ran a hand repeatedly through the long side of his blue hair and chewed his lip at the hardly contained stress. "What the hell happened, MJ?" He tugged hard on his hair. "This wasn't supposed ta happen for another two months or something,' right?"

Mirajane gave a long sigh. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her dress. "Yes, but… She's been under so much stress lately. It's not the first time it's happened early."

"Two months early, doll?! That ain't never happened before! We didn't even prepare! We—"

The hall door opened up and Erza approached. "Lucy told me what happened," straight to the point, as always. "How is Dreamer?"

"We're not really sure," Mira answered, sadly. "Master and Wendy are with her."

"How did this happen?" Erza's hands crossed over her chest. "Is she ill or did she get injured? Was she attacked?" Her eyes hardened. "Was it Midnight?"

"You think he'd still be breathin' if he laid a finger on her?!" Piper shouted, hands balled in fists.

"Piper, please calm down." Mira touched his fist. "Getting worked up isn't going to help Dreamer get better."

Piper grinded his teeth in frustration but relaxed his hands. "…Yeah. I know."

"You still haven't answered my question," Erza pointed out. Her face was stern but also concerned. "How did this happen? Lucy told me that she stumbled into the guild hall last night and collapsed. If someone has harmed one of Fairy Tail's members, I need to know immediately."

"No, Erza," Mira shook her head. "No one hurt her."

"It ain't that simple, Scar," Piper added, looking like a man totally defeated.

"Then explain," the redhead commanded.

Piper and Mira shared a look, as if debating whether or not to obey the order. Mira gave an almost imperceptible nod and Piper leaned against the wall and faced Erza full on. "Look, it's like this… Dreamy's magic—"

He had just started to explain when the hall doors swung open again and a raven-haired seven-year-old stomped in. For as young as she was, her eyes were fierce—as sharp as the pink diamonds she could create. "Where's Mom?"

"Syllest?" Piper and Mira looked at each other and back at her.

"I t'ought you's was with Pops, kiddo?"

"I was," she crossed her little arms over her chest and stood beside Erza, looking like a black-haired mini version of the terrifying woman. "But Grandpa said he wanted to check on something and he told me to stay home and wait and that everything is okay, but I'm not stupid! I know everything's not okay because Mom didn't come home last night and she's my mom so I want to know what happened!" Tears streaked her pale face. "Is she sick? Did she get hurt? Is she in there? Let me go see her!" She made for the door but Erza clasped a hand on her shoulder and Mira blocked the door.

"I'm sorry, Syllest," Mira said gently. "We're all worried about your mom, but we have to leave her alone for now so Wendy can help her get better."

"So she IS sick! What happened?! Mom!" She bolted out of Erza's grip toward the door. "Mommy, are you okay?!"

"Sh, sh!" Piper quickly put a hand over her mouth. "You's can't be here, kiddo."

Erza had no idea what was going on, but she caught onto the urgency in Piper and Mira's expressions. For whatever reason, they didn't want Syllest near Dreamer. So she snatched the girl by the arm and tugged her down the hall toward the main room. She threw the door open and scanned the faces in the room. "Ah yes! Juvia!"

The water mage glanced up and blinked as if disoriented. Clearly she'd been having some kind of girlish fantasy about Gray, who was tiredly eating a bagel across the table from her. She looked at Erza in surprise. "Yes?"

Erza marched a flailing Syllest up to Juvia and shoved the girl towards her. "I would like you to keep an eye on Syllestra until further notice."

"Huh?" Juvia stood, looking clearly confused. "Why me?"

"I believe you to be the most maternal woman available at the moment. I expect you to take Syllest under your wing and protect her from all harm until circumstances change."

Nearby, Lucy and Levy temples were throbbing at the "most maternal woman available" comment.

"I don't WANT to be with this crazy lady!" Syllest yelled at Erza. "I want to be with my mom!"

Erza put a hand on Syllest's head and patted her hair. "I understand. Truly I do." She smiled sweetly at the child. "But right now you must be strong for your mother, until you can see her again. Do you understand what I'm saying, Syllest?"

The girl wiped tears from her eyes but nodded slowly. "Erza… You better make sure my mom is okay! Or… Or I'll never forgive you!"

Erza nodded seriously. "Oh my honor, your mother will be okay and you will be able to see her before you know it." She pressed her hand to her chest in this vow.

Syllest turned quickly and stood by Juvia, still furiously wiping her tears away.

"Juvia?" Erza looked at the blue-haired wizard expectantly. Juvia's eyes were wide and focused on the child who was now tugging on her sleeve.

 _Me? Maternal? I've been chosen to mentor this child—me, of all other women here? Of course it's me, it couldn't possibly be that blonde bimbo or any of the other sleazy man-stealers in this guild. But can I really do it? Am I really cut out to be a mother? Oh this is too soon! And yet… Oh, my darling Gray! This is perfect! It's my chance to practice motherhood in your name! I will coach this child as if she belonged to me! And with the black hair I can almost imagine her to be OUR child, my dear Gray! Yes! Oh, yes this is perfect! The three of us can spend time together and I can see what kind of a father you will be to our own children! This is the opportunity of a lifetime—a chance to practice the future life that we will share together, my dear sweet Gray! AH! And when you see how wonderful a mother I am you will be absolutely charmed and you'll want to start having children of our own!_

Hearts filled in her eyes and steam rose from her reddened face as she imagined a scene where Syllest was holding her hand and smiling brightly at her. _You're the best mom ever, Juvia._ And Gray looking at her with dazzling eyes and mouth parted in desire. _Wow, Juvia… You're so good with children… It makes me want to start a family of our own! Right now!_ His muscular arms pulling her into a romantic embrace, glorious shining lips drawing to hers, stars and roses shimmering around the two of them as they prepare to—

"JUVIA!" Erza snapped her out of her thoughts. Juvia squeaked and quickly straightened her posture. "Can I count on you to do this?"

"Yes!" Juvia nodded vigorously and pulled Syllest against her bosom. "I will take care of this child as if she were my own!"

"Good." Erza nodded and left without another word, returning to the infirmary door to address Piper and Mira again.

"Now. I believe you were telling me what this is all about."

Mira spoke up this time. "Dreamer's magic—"

Now they were interrupted by the infirmary door opening. Carla stood there and nodded at them. "You are free to come in, though you must stay quiet."

Piper was the first to quickly shove in through the door. He was at Dreamer's side in an instant.

The woman was asleep. Her skin was sickly pale, her breathing shallow. Her face was contorted in an expression of pain or fear, eyes darting under closed eyelids. Sweat beads rolled off of her forehead and she shivered under the hospital blanket. Occasionally she would moan something incomprehensible in the feverish sleep. When Piper reached her, he gently brushed aside a wet piece of her bangs and rested his knuckles on her forehead.

"She's still burnin' up…" He shot an accusing look at Wendy. "I thought you's was here to heal her!"

Wendy put her hands to her lips nervously. "I-I did my best, but…"

"Do not blame Wendy, young man," Makarov chided. "If not for her sky dragon magic, Dreamer would not have survived the night."

An icy silence fell on the room. Mirajane trembled. "Master… You can't be serious?"

"No way… It ain't ever been bad enough to kill her…"

Erza watched a few steps behind everyone, still confused but also heavily concerned. "Master. What… What's happening to her?"

Makarov sighed and sat on the hospital bed across from Dreamer. "Erza, I'm not surprised you don't know this. In fact, we've always sought to keep it as much a secret as possible, for the safety of all parties involved." He stroked his mustache. "I'm sure you've seen what Dreamer's magic can do?"

"Yes, of course." Erza looked compassionately at the woman, who writhed in agony on the bed.

"Tell me, Erza. Have you ever seen a wizard who uses charm magic without a magical charm item? A ring or a staff?"

"No… I suppose I haven't."

Mira spoke up while she tenderly stroked Dreamer's hand. "That's because it's really rare for a wizard to have natural charm magic. It's what makes Dreamer's magic so special…" Her blue eyes shimmered with restrained tears.

"And powerful," Makarov added. "Her magic, in its extreme capacity, could change the moral alignment of an entire army, or erase every bad memory a person has ever had. It could persuade emperors to hand over their entire nations without so much as a moment's hesitation."

"Is she… really that powerful?" Erza looked at Dreamer with a newfound respect. She always knew the woman was useful in controlling the mood of a situation, but she had no idea her magic could accomplish things of that magnitude.

"But it ain't that simple…" Piper stroked her hair, his lip turned in an aching frown. "If she did somethin' like that, she'd die."

Makarov nodded grimly. "You see, Dreamer's power comes at a dastardly price. How do you suppose she removes negative emotions and bad dreams?"

"I have no idea." Erza watched as Dreamer gasped for breath and Carla quickly patted her forehead with a cool cloth. Then, it occurred to her. "She absorbs them…"

"Correct." Makarov nodded. "Each time this young woman changes someone's mood she absorbs the strong emotion they were feeling. Every nightmare she replaces with a good dream must first be consumed by her own soul."

"How is that possible?" Erza blinked in surprise.

"She's able to bottle up all of that energy and store it away," Mira said. "But not forever. About once a year, all of those emotions and magical energy that she's consumed has to be released…" Mira choked on tears and squeezed her friend's hand.

"Then that is what this is," Erza calculated. "The time has come for her to release everything that has been stored up."

"Yeah but usually we're prepared for this," Piper said. He nodded in thanks when Wendy handed him a small glass of water to try and give Dreamer. "We set up a place for 'er on Pop's estate. We do somethin' with Syllest so's as she don't have to see Dreamy like this. And we gots some stuff in place that'll help her release the energy slowly so's it don't kill her or drive her crazy… Dammit, MJ, how comes we didn't see it?!"

"It's so early…" Mira sighed. "And she must have been trying to keep it from us so that we wouldn't worry…"

"Idiot." Piper clutched the blanket and sobbed. "Why you's always gotta play the hero?"

"How long will this last?" Erza asked after another moment of silence.

"It's impossible to say," Makarov sighed. "There's no way to measure the amount of emotional and magical energy she's consumed. However long it takes, she will be incapacitated for that amount of time. She will be in constant pain and she will be unpredictable and dangerous. Which is why Syllest is absolutely forbidden from seeing her until this season is over." He sighed again. "This isn't good. It seems an unlucky coincidence that this has occurred at the same time The King of Diamonds has made it clear he is planning an attack. We will have to guard Syllest and Dreamer with everything we can."

"That bastard ain't getting' anywhere near my girls," Piper said, fury on his expression. Fists clenched. Tears running down to his blue goatee.

"Ah yes. The King of Diamonds. I remember you briefing me on the situation, Master." Erza nodded.

"Then you know how important it is to ensure the safety of these two. I would ask that you refrain from taking any job requests until Dreamer is healthy, Erza. We will need at least one S-class wizard nearby in the event that the man makes an attack."

"Yes, of course." Erza pressed her palm to her chest plate, vowing to obey.

There was a knock on the slightly ajar door. "May I enter, dear me?"

"Come in, old friend," Makarov beckoned. Jezran entered with his top hat held to his chest in both hands, expression solemn.

"You's better have a good reason for ditchin' Syllest, Pops!" Piper snapped.

"I do indeed, dear me." Jezran nodded. He looked sadly at Dreamer's tossing form. "I tracked down dear Dreamer's whereabouts last night. It seems she was in the west sector of town, removing the nightmares and memories of a young boy, dear me."

Erza gasped. "The mother and son from the graveyard…" Her expression clouded over. "This is my fault… I pushed her too hard yesterday. And she must have taken so much compassion on that boy that she returned to use her magic on him." Her fist clenched. "It was my actions that pushed her beyond her limit."

"I disagree, dear me." Jezran stepped forward and gave Dreamer a sad smile. "She has been at her breaking point for some time now, dear me, but continued to push herself anyway."

"…It's _his_ fault." Piper was trembling. His fists were so tight that his nails were digging into his palms. "That damned Oracion Seis freak! She's been using her magic double time since that bastard showed up! Dammit, Dreamy, why?! You pushed your luck too far this time!"

"P-Piper?" Her voice croaked. She struggled to open her eyes at the sound of his voice.

"Dreamy?! Dreamy, I'm here. We're all here." Piper cupped her face.

"It hurts…" The gray of her colorless eyes could just barely be seen. "It hurts so much."

Mira cried and laid her head on Dreamer's blanket. Makarov had to look away. Even Erza couldn't keep looking at the pitiful sight.

"I can try to reduce some more of her pain," Wendy said, stepping forward.

"You will do no such thing!" Carla snapped. "Your magic energy is completely depleted. Rest and restore it before you try to help her again, child."

"But I—"

"Listen to Carla," Makarov commanded. "Dreamer is in pain but it could be worse. She's stable."

"Well… Okay, but… I want to stay here with her!" Wendy's face was set in determination.

"Piper…" Dreamer groaned in agony. "Just kill me... Please! If you love me then do it! I can't take this…"

Piper choked on tears and pet her hair. "I can't do that, Dreamy. You knows I can't do that."

"Please…"

Makarov sighed and stood up. "Piper, Mira, it's time to go."

"I ain't leavin' her!" Piper refused, his body now wracked by sobs.

"You _must_." Makarov said sternly. "The strength of your emotions will only make it harder for her to maintain control!"

"Piper…" Mira gently took his hand. "Come on. You know how this works. Why don't we go do something nice for her? We could make origami dragons like we did last year, and we'll hang them here for her to look at when she wakes up." Mira's voice broke as the tears fell. "Or we could get her a bouquet of all her favorite flowers, or maybe we can ask Lucy to come and use Lyra to sing a song for her. Wouldn't that… be nice?" She sobbed too.

Makarov held the door open for them, indicating that they needed to leave.

"Master, I will take measures to increase guild hall security for the time being," Erza said with a slight bow as she exited the room. She glanced back over her shoulder at Dreamer, truly sorry for the way she'd yelled at Dreamer yesterday—the way she'd pushed her to control the emotions of that woman and son. She was set on making it right, whatever she had to do.

"Child, if you are going to stay here, then I insist you get some rest." Carla patted another hospital bed. "You've been awake all night."

Wendy nodded, but looked worriedly at Dreamer before sitting down.

Jezran walked to Dreamer and leaned down to plant a kiss on the back of her hand, like a true gentleman. "You are loved, my dear." He cupped her face with an old, wrinkled hand, and also left the room, placing a hand on Piper's back to usher him out as well.

Mira practically ran from the room, fighting back tears. Piper was the most stubborn to leave. He glanced back several times at Dreamer's thrashing, moaning form. He'd never seen her this bad before…

Makarov shut the door, blocking his view of her. "Go on. She will be safe."

A group of despondent wizards trudged back to the main hall, leaving Dreamer alone in the infirmary with Wendy and Carla, and Master Makarov in the hall in front of the door. He stood there silently with his eyes closed. It was never an easy thing, seeing one of his children in pain. And while he was confident Dreamer would heal, the fact that she had to suffer was heavy on his heart, along with all of her friends and loved ones. He opened his eyes after a long moment.

"Can I count on you to guard this door?" he said suddenly, though the hall appeared to be empty.

From the shadows, a dual-haired wizard stepped forward. His face was expressionless, red eyes unfeeling.

"There's no need to play coy, Midnight," Makarov said without looking at him. "I know you've been there for quite some time and I know you heard it all; so, I will ask again," voice stern, "can I trust you to keep Dreamer from harm?"

Midnight's response was to walk up to the infirmary door and sit with his back against it.

"Hm." Makarov nodded in approval and left him there.

Midnight crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his head back against the door, but he didn't sleep. His mind mulled over everything he'd overheard. About how she could absorb painful feelings and even nightmares. And he thought back to the night she answered his prayer. How much pain had she absorbed that night? How much pain was she enduring now because of the magic she had expelled on him over the past several weeks?

She cried out in the room behind him.

Midnight was used to screams of pain. He learned a long time ago how to tune them out—even how to allow cries of misery to become a soothing melody that would lull him to sleep. But Dreamer's cry… It brought him back to his earliest days in the Tower, when the screams terrified him. When his heart broke for his friends and acquaintances he couldn't help. Before the numbness and darkness. Before Brain told him to abandon all weakness. Before sadism was borne in his black heart.

When he heard Dreamer screaming in the room behind him, he was a child again, desperate for her to stop.

 _I can't help you._ A tear slid down his jaw.

 _But I_ will _protect you._

* * *

 **A/N: Simana, you asked about what went into the making of my characters. Are you asking specifically about my OC's? I wouldn't mind sharing some of my story and character development with you guys if you want to hear it. :)  
**


	29. Unexpected Request

**Chapter 29: Unexpected Request**

The guild swimming pool reflected sparkles of dazzling sunlight. Water splashed over the edges as the male wizards inside competed in races.

"Hey! No fair, Gray! You can't make the water cold so that you'll win!" Natsu shouted across the pool.

"I'm not, you idiot! You just can't handle pool water because you're a wuss!"

"Don't let him talk to you like that, Natsu!" A purple swim-trunked boy shouted, his head barely above the water at the shallow end of the pool.

"Heck no, I'm not!" The water around Natsu started to boil.

Nearby, behind the pool bar, peering over the top of the counter, were a set of dark blue eyes and a set of cherry blossom pink eyes.

"Juvia… Don't you think this is creepy?" Syllest whispered.

"Hush, my sweet child," Juvia said. "From this distance you can watch your true love acting naturally without him being distracted by your beauty and charm." There were hearts in her eyes as she gazed at shirtless Gray's body.

"But… If I got _in_ the water I could talk to him," Syllest pointed out.

"Oh, you hopeless child. I'm so glad that fate brought us together so that I would be able to teach you the mysterious ways of love! Trust me, sweet Syllestra, my instruction will not lead you astray."

Syllest nodded seriously and focused on watching Romeo swim. "I guess this is kind of fun," she giggled. "Usually, when I'm around Romeo, he turns all pink and he yells at me and sometimes he runs away but since he can't see me he's being normal. And I feel sneaky like spy… Did you know Grandpa Jezran was a spy? But don't tell anyone, it's a secret, okay! He was an evil spy for Pergrande and I think he killed people…" Her eyes were wide. "But now he's my grandpa and he's really great and he protects me and Mom and…" Her eyes shadowed over. "But Mom is sick now, so maybe Pops didn't protect her good enough…"

"Sh, child." Juvia tugged Syllest against her bosom. "Focus on your one true love and all other things will fade away! You won't be able to remain gloomy when you cast your eyes upon the sweet face of your beloved!"

"Okay, teacher!" Syllest nodded vigorously. She settled down to stare at Romeo with the same intensity Juvia was staring at Gray.

"Hey, Romeo," Macao called out from the edge of the pool where he was tanning next to Wakaba. "I think you have a secret admirer!"

"Huh?" The young boy looked up at where his dad was pointing. He locked eyes with the creepy girl staring at him in the shadows of the bar. His face instantly flushed pink and he jumped back so far that he fell off the pool step and under the water which was too deep for him.

"OH NO!" Syllest jumped out into the open. "Juvia we killed him!" She dove into the water and grabbed onto Romeo, tugging him toward the pool edge. "I'll save you, Romeo!"

"I-I'm not drowning, Syllest!" The boy flailed wildly. "L-Let me go!"

She paid him absolutely no heed, instead dragging him onto dry land. "Romeo!" She shook him violently by the shoulders. "Do you need CRP?!"

"I think she means CPR," Wakaba commented.

"NO! Syllest!" Romeo whined loudly and tried again to squirm away from her. "I'm not drowning!"

"Don't die, Romeo!" She hugged him tightly, burying her little head against his chest. She was suddenly sobbing. "I don't want to lose you too!"

The tone of the environment changed instantly. It was as if a dark cloud had passed in front of the sun.

Romeo returned Syllest's hug. "We're friends, Syllest." He cracked a wide smile. "We're gonna be friends forever right? You can't lose something you're going to have forever!"

Syllest stared at him, wide-eyed, blushing slightly. Then she giggled and squeezed him so tightly that his face started to turn purple.

Juvia squealed with hearts in her eyes and hands clasped together. "That was the cutest thing I've ever seen!" She wiped a teardrop away. "I've taught you so well, sweet child of mine…"

* * *

Dreamer had been in the guild infirmary a total of five days. Five days of screaming and thrashing. Of fevers and panic attacks so extreme that she had to be bound at times. Five days of waking up confused and disoriented. Of begging for death.

And for five days and nights, Midnight had sat like a silent sentinel in front of the infirmary door. He hardly moved except to walk down the hall to the bathroom as needed. He ate only when food was brought to him. And he slept on his carpet—if at all.

He sat there now, arms crossed, red eyes glazed and unseeing. Until a voice called out to him.

"Yo." Gajeel approached, lugging an acoustic guitar with him. He sat casually next to Midnight. "So it's true. Someone told me you'd been sulking outside the infirmary door for a few days like a lost puppy. Shoulda figured Danielle is in there."

Midnight didn't correct him on the butchering of Dreamer's name. "What do you want?" His eyes were cold and suspicious.

"You wanted to learn to play guitar right?" Gajeel strummed a few chords.

Midnight scoffed and closed his eyes. "I'm not in the mood."

"That's why I brought the guitar, idiot." Gajeel snapped. "Music is medicine for the soul, man."

There was no response from the dark wizard, so Gajeel shrugged and played the guitar next to him, instructing him as if he were actually paying attention. Eventually, since the dragon slayer wasn't going away, Midnight opened his eyes and began to watch. After an even longer stretch of time, he slowly held his hand out for the guitar and Gajeel tossed it to him with a fang-toothed grin.

"You're gettin' the hang of it," Gajeel praised. "Pretty soon we can start working on some material for our first real concert as 'Gajeel and the Jazzettes!'"

"I told you I abhor that name," Midnight shoved the guitar back into Gajeel's arms and the bigger man laughed out loud.

"You got something better?"

Midnight didn't answer, just leaned back against the wall and stared into space yet again, albeit just a bit more relaxed than before Gajeel came along.

The iron dragon slayer sat up and rested the guitar on the ground next to him. He looked at Midnight, his gaze serious. "Hey, how about you go take a break? I can guard the goods for you for a while."

Midnight's gaze was murderous. "Not on your life."

"Look," Gajeel stared back stubbornly. "You've been sitting out here for days. I don't wanna be an asshole, but you're not exactly smelling like roses and cotton candy right now." He tapped his slayer nose—reminding Midnight of Cobra's heightened senses.

Midnight said nothing. He didn't budge.

"Suit yourself," Gajeel shrugged and stood up. "You sure you want to look like _that_ when what's-her-face wakes up though? You might scare her unconscious again."

Midnight scowled. Gajeel looked at him with a smirk. "Seriously, man. Go take a shower and wipe that shit off your face. It's embarrassing. If you're gonna make yourself up like a woman, then you might wanna try waterproof mascara or something because you look like a train wreck."

Midnight's cheeks might actually have taken some color at the comment. His scowl deepened.

"This is the last time I'm offerin,'" Gajeel continued. "I can sit and watch the door for a while if you want to clean yourself up. If not, I've got better things to do than to sit around watchin' you wallow in teenage angst."

Midnight finally stood up. He didn't look at Gajeel as he headed down the hall. He stopped walking to say: "Just so we're clear, I don't owe you anything for this."

"Of course you don't," Gajeel chuckled and sat down where Midnight had been. "It's just what friends do."

A shiver went down Midnight's back. _Friends._ "Hmph." He left Gajeel sitting there playing guitar.

He followed Gajeel's advice and headed for the boy's dormitory to clean up. He shot hard glares at a few people who were staring at him as he walked, and kept to the shadows to avoid as much attention as possible. It was the first time in days that he'd stepped into sunlight, which was nearly enough to make him hiss when it retracted his pupils painfully. He trudged to the dorm and up to the second floor to the room he shared with Piper.

He was pleased to find that his side of the room was exactly as he left it. Along with the blue tape on the floor that marked the boundary between Piper's side and his. He dug some clothes out of a drawer and went into the bathroom to shower.

His reflection in the mirror caught his attention. Gajeel was right—he looked awful. Mascara streaks down his cheeks from crying, smudges of eyeshadow and lipstick, dark shadows under his eyes from even more restless sleep than normal. Matted, wild hair—unattractive wrinkles in his clothes. He narrowed his eyes at the man in the mirror and looked away before stripping out of the old clothes and stepping behind the curtain.

He stood in the hot water for a long time. It scalded his skin but couldn't seem to penetrate the coldness he felt inside. It dripped from strands of black and white hair, slid soothingly over the curves of his muscles, yet did nothing to soothe the frustration that writhed in the pit of his stomach. The constant thrum of the water hitting the walls of the shower was like a lullaby, but Midnight did not want to sleep.

His mind wandered dark paths. Memories. Hurt. Confusion.

He thought about the hot water and about all the years he spent deprived of simple luxuries like this. For years, he and his friends showered in rain runoff from the top of the tower. And now, those very same friends were locked up by the Magic Council, probably still suffering in the cold. Suffering while he stood in the steam-filled bathroom.

 _Friends._

Gajeel said they were friends. Not long ago, Dreamer had called him a friend as well.

He slammed his fist against the shower wall and sobbed.

"I don't understand." Lip trembling. Salty tears mixing with droplets of water cascading down his bare form.

Friendship. Freedom. Family. These obscure concepts were becoming even more shrouded in his mind. Is friendship found among survivors of trauma, clinging to one another to survive—or is it found in those who would serve, selflessly, laugh and play guitar together? Was freedom found in chaos, or in being unbound, or was it something that happened internally? Was family the father that rescued and enslaved the orphan, or was it the sister who took on the role of mother for a lost child?

"You're so weak!" He lifted his head and stared at the ceiling as the tears fell. Father would have been so ashamed. _Tears are a sign of weakness, my boy._ But Midnight's "father" was nowhere to be found. He'd researched and knew that Zero was not caught by The Magic Council in the wreckage of Nirvana. He was loose somewhere, and yet he had done nothing to search out Midnight. Because Midnight meant nothing to him now—now that he had failed.

He clutched his head in his hands, only feeling more confused.

Midnight. Macbeth. He didn't even know who he had been, who he was, or who he was becoming. All that made sense to him were the faces that flashed through his mind—faces of people he wanted to protect. He didn't know why or what that meant—if it came from pure intent or some darker motives. He just knew that they mattered to him.

The other members of the Oracion Seis. Gajeel. Even Jezran and Piper… Syllestra. Dreamer. Somehow, the answer to all of his confusion could be found in these people. His questions. Friendship, Family, Freedom. The answer was there, somewhere. He just had to find it…

For a long time, Midnight stood there. Still and thoughtful. Eventually, he washed up using the soap, shampoo and conditioner Dreamer had recently bought for him. It was almost humorous, how the multiple products and rags Midnight used filled an entire wall of the shower, while Piper had a bottle of body wash on one corner.

He washed his face and finally stepped onto the bathroom rug. Towel-dried his hair. Wiped steamy condensation from the mirror to look at himself again. No makeup. Wet dual-colored curls. Red eyes seeking—gazing into their own essence for meaning, for answers. His fingers trailed up to the red Oracion Seis mark on his right arm.

"Six prayers." He traced it and sighed. He couldn't very well call himself a member of the Oracion Seis anymore. Not when his prayer had been answered.

He tugged on a shirt and pulled the sleeve harshly down over the mark. He got dressed and clasped his precious pendant around his neck. The dream catcher Syllest had made. Then began the long process of fixing his disheveled appearance.

He dried his hair but opted not to straighten it this time, or bother with beads or braids. Then the makeup… He took Gajeel's advice and used waterproofed products this time, in the event that his eyes continued to leak the way they seemed to be doing lately.

He finished with his lipstick and leaned back to look at his reflection again. He was reminded of when Syllest had asked him a question in the Thorn Charade. _If you kiss Mom, are you going to take your lipstick off first?_ He smirked at the mirror and wondered absentmindedly what Dreamer would prefer.

Thinking of her quickly righted his thoughts, however. He needed to return to his post.

With this in mind, he left the bathroom and was met immediately with the unpleasant sight of Piper sitting on his bed across the room.

"Finally," the blue-haired wizard sneered. "You take longer showers than any woman I've ever known."

"Go to hell." Midnight snapped back without emotion.

"I share a room wit' you's," Piper said. "So's I'm already there."

Midnight started for the door.

"What's the point of all that makeup and shit, anyways?" Piper continued to chide.

"Maybe I'm gay," he said.

"Trust me, it'd be a load off my back if you's was," the dice wizard said bitterly, "but I knows that ain't true."

Midnight ignored the comment and reached for the doorknob.

"Wait a sec, will ya?" Piper stood and called after him. "I need to talk to you's about something."

"Not interested." He turned the door handle.

"Dammit, Midnight, you know I wouldn't waste my breath on you's if I didn't have to!" His voice was desperate. "I need your help."

Midnight paused. He looked at Piper, then threw his head back... and laughed out loud, at the top of his lungs. "Y-You must be dreaming! Me? Help you?"

"Quit bein' an asshole for one minute, would ya?!" Piper shouted back. "It ain't for me, it's for Dreamy! And if I could ask anyone else, you's bet your ass I would."

His laugh died down at the mention of Dreamer. His hand fell away from the door and he folded his arms over his chest, facing Piper.

"Yeah, figured you'd sober up when I mentioned her," Piper's voice dripped bitterness and animosity. "Bastard." He sighed heavily. "Look, not sure if you's knew this, but Pops Jezran is a damn good tracker and he's been followin' up on this King of Diamonds stuff. Fact is… he found a lead and I'm gonna go checks it out. You in?"

Midnight's eyes narrowed.

"I'm askin' you's because there's a good chance we runs into Res himself, alright? And if that happens… Shit, I can't believe I'm sayin' this… Well I don't stand a chance against the bastard on my own, alright? So, you's in?"

Midnight stared at him for a long moment. "This man… Res." His voice was low and careful. "He's the one hunting for Syllest?"

"Yeah," Piper nodded slowly. "That's the one."

Midnight nodded slowly. "I'm in."

* * *

 **A/N: howlingwolvesonfire, what a good question! I've never thought of what would happen to Dreamer if she only absorbed positive emotions and forced negative ones on people. I imagine that would make for a really happy, insane villain. xD I guess I never thought about it because she's too sweet and self-sacrificing to do something like that. That's such an interesting thought, though!**

 **Simana, as for my OC's... Man, where do I start? I guess I can talk about Dreamer this time. She actually came to me while myself and xSteleAliniax (who is my best friend in real life, as well as another author on this site) were talking about what magical powers each of us would have in the Fairy Tail universe. I told her that my powers would have to have something to do with controlling emotion. After a little while with that idea ruminating in my head, I thought... Wait, that's actually a really cool idea! And I started to develop a character who could use some type of emotion magic. Things just started to fall into place after that. I had the idea to write a Midnight fic, and I thought my developing character was the perfect candidate for helping Midnight reform, so I began to develop her deeper with that in mind. That's when I added the power to take away nightmares.**

 **I played with her name a LOT. The continual butchering of Dreamer's name as a gag in the fic is actually an inside joke of my own, lol, because I had such a hard time picking a name for her. I thought the name "Dreamer" was just too cliche and obvious as a pairing with Midnight. But the longer I thought about it, the more it stuck. Dreamer and Midnight... Middream. I had to keep it. And her last name "Cumula" comes from the word Cumulus, which is a cloud, the symbol of dreaming. Plus, her name just works for ships. xD Which leads into my creation of Piper, actually, because (trivia), if you make a ship name from their names, you get "Pipe Dream". As in, their being together is "nothing but a pipe dream." Or another personal favorite of mine, and a side gag that you'll learn about later, Dreamogan *mischievous smirk.***

 **Anyway, so that's basically how I came up with Dreamer's character and magic.**

 **Also, _of course_ you'll get to see more of Piper and Jezran's magic, as well as their backstories! In fact, good job mentioning Piper because we're breaking into a special little arc with Midnight and Piper, as you can see. Jezran's abilities and backstory will come into play a little bit later. Along with the introduction of two more OC's (one of which I think will take your breath away). **

**That's all I'll let you in on for now. ;) Next week, I'll talk about how I developed Piper's character.**

 **Thank you all for your continued support and feedback, as always!**


	30. Mutual Understanding

**Chapter 30: Mutual Understanding**

"I still don't understand why you felt the necessity to bring me along on this excursion," Midnight drawled across the train booth at Piper. "If it's true that you're too weak to stand up to this man yourself, then why not call on the services of the mighty Titania," bitter sarcasm coated his words. "Or perhaps Natsu or Mirajane. Actual members of your guild?"

The wizard across from him stroked his blue goatee and kept his emerald eyes narrowed and averted—face in an ever-present scowl.

"It's like this, a'right?" He folded his bare arms over his chest. "Pops's been lookin' into this King of Diamonds stuff for a while. He's got some connections wit' an illegal smugglin' guild called Lindren—operates out of Hargeon. Anyways, the old man asked the guild master to keep an ear out for anything suspicious and sure 'nough, he got some info."

Midnight listened intently, legs crossed and arms at his sides, head cocked just slightly.

"'Parently, there's been a request goin' around to all the pirates and smugglers for transportation particular goods. The livin', breathin,' manual labor sort of goods."

"Slaves." Midnight's lip twitched in the hint of a scowl. Piper gave a slow nod and looked at him.

"Dat alone ain't an indicator of any'ting relating to Res… But it ain't the only transport request runnin' around the ocean right now. Turns out Lindren got a strange, anonymous request for the transportation of diamonds. Loads and loads of diamonds. Pops did some hunting and found out that both the request for slaves and diamonds came from the same source, though it was made to look like they's didn't.

"It still don't mean anything, necessarily, but it's suspicious as hell."

"As fascinating as that is," Midnight yawned, "it still doesn't answer my question."

"I'm getting' there, bastard!" Piper glared at him, the hatred obvious. "Thing is, when Pops traced the origin of the requests, turned out they came from a real unexpected place. Ever heard of the marketing guild Love and Lucky?"

"Of course." Midnight narrowed his eyes. "You don't mean to tell me that _they_ made the requests for slaves and diamonds?"

"That's what I'm tellin' you's." Piper leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "The problem is, Love and Lucky is a legal and official guild. Furthermore, Fairy Tail ain't allowed anywheres near it. Master made an agreement wit' both the Magic Council and the Fioran guard not to take any jobs regardin' the guild because it brings in good income, good economy for Fiore and they don't want Fairy Tail destroyin' it—you's followin?'"

He began to put the pieces together and a devious smile crept across his face. "You're breaking the rules," he stated. "We're going to Love and Lucky behind Fairy Tail's back, correct? Which is why you couldn't go to a Fairy Tail member for help."

"You got it," Piper nodded. "I don't give a damn whether we have a treaty with Love and Lucky or not, if Res is hidin' out there, I'm burnin' the whole damn guild to the ground. Anything to keep Dreamy and Syllest safe." His green eyes burned with passion, fist clenched.

The smirk lingered on Midnight's face. "Finally, some entertainment."

"You're a sick bastard, you know?" Piper scoffed. "But at least I knows you's won't have any qualms with makin' the King of Diamonds suffer a torturous death, which is less than he deserves."

Midnight watched the fury color the lines of Piper's face. "This King of Diamonds," he said slowly. "Who is he? And what does he want with Dreamer?"

"That's all I'm tellin' you, bub." Piper looked back out the window. "Worthless fleabag like you ain't gots no business knowin' about Dreamy's life."

Midnight scoffed but said nothing more. He closed his eyes, allowing the conversation to end. For now…

* * *

They got off the train before the sun had set in the sky. It was too early for Love and Lucky to be closed for the day, and the two wizards had already decided to investigate at night. So, in the meantime…

"I'm starving.'" Piper rubbed his stomach. "Might as well get some grub before we do this thing. Never did like to risk my luck on an empty stomach."

Midnight followed lazily. Piper led the way to a burger joint a few blocks away from the guild. They'd have to kill time until it was safe to break in.

"Never t'ought in my life I'd be havin' a meal with you, of all people…" Piper grumbled under his breath as they looked for a table. Midnight smirked lightly, amused by the other wizard's almost tangible dislike for him.

The only table available was a corner booth in the small restaurant. They took their seats and waited in tense silence for someone to take their order. A young waitress came after a few minutes.

"Hello! What can I get for you two?" She grinned cheerily.

Piper ordered some giant greasy cheeseburger. "And what's the best beer you's got on tap here?"

"Well, we have—"

"Tsk, tsk," Midnight chided from across the table. "You know you're not allowed to drink, Piper." His tone was mocking.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll just have some water," he scowled and passed his menu to the waitress, who was giggling at them with a big grin.

"And for you, sir?"

Midnight pointed at a salad on the menu and said nothing, trusting the woman was smart enough to be able to read. She took down his order and collected his menu. "I love that shade of lipstick, by the way! Is it Darling-Plum from Mayberry Makeups?"

Midnight gave a brief nod in response.

"Okay! I'll be back with your drinks!" She giggled again and skipped off, leaving the two men in just as tense a position as before.

Once the men got their drinks, they sat in silence waiting for the food.

Piper, sky-blue hair styled into something of an uneven mohawk, pierced ears, leather jacket and tank top, oversized combat boots, and a permanent scowl. He was pointedly sitting with his arms folded over his chest, green eyes narrowed at Midnight across the table. Occasionally, he'd scratch his goatee, as if he were thinking about saying something, but then he'd scoff and look away, growing tenser with each passing moment.

After a few minutes of listening to the dull roar of voices in the restaurant, Midnight suddenly spoke up.

"What's the matter Piper? Are you too afraid to say what's on your mind?" His voice was taunting. His posture was similar to Piper's. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, boring into the other man. Green vs. Red.

"You's ain't special!" Piper finally burst. "You knows that?"

Midnight raised an eyebrow. Piper's eyebrow was twitching with fury, fist clenched as if he had half the mind to leap across the table and strangle the assassin. However, his expression suddenly changed. He turned his gaze downward and stared at the tabletop, and he picked at the corner. His emerald eyes were downcast, bitterness painted on his lips.

"I bet she makes you feel that way, don't she?" His voice lowered. "Dreamy." The way he said her name was a sad sigh. "But you's ain't special. She makes everyone feel that way. It don't mean nothing.'"

Midnight folded his arms and continued to stare, silently. He observed the other man with mute curiosity. His temperament often reminded Midnight of Racer. Short-tempered and stupid. But Racer was his friend. Piper was not.

"What I'm sayin' is, the same way she looks at you and goes out of her way for you and all the other shit she's doin' right now… It ain't special! Same garbage she's spewin' at you is the same she gave to me three years ago and the same she gave to Pops before that." He clenched his teeth. "What you's gotsta know about Dreamy is that she's got a savior complex. She takes losers like you's and me and Pops and she makes us feel important or some shit… She gets us up on our feet, t'en she moves onto the next sorry case. This ain't the first time she done it and it sure as hell won't be the last."

The gambling wizard pulled his signature dice from the pocket of his holey jeans and rolled them on the table. A three and a two. He sighed heavily.

"Almost four years ago now, I was a mess…" He stared into a memory, as though it were etched on the tabletop. "Spent all my time and all my jule at the casino. I drank too much. Wouldn't say I was an alcoholic. Well, not yet anyways…" He leaned back and stared at the light above their table. "I had a fiancé."

Midnight cocked his head but his expression was unreadable. Neither bored, nor interested. Red eyes boring into Piper.

"My girl told me I needed to stop gambling and drinking, but I didn't listen." He laughed, sourly. "I just couldn't understand why she's was gettin' on my case about it so much all the sudden. Kept naggin' me, tellins me I had to sober up. Had to save money. I just t'ought she was being a typical naggy woman, you's know? I was so damn stupid…"

Midnight didn't blink.

"Turned out she was pregnant." He scratched his cheek and smiled bitterly. "'Course, I didn't know til she was gone. Never even guessed it cuz I didn't pays enough attention to her to sees it. And after that, I really lost it. Drank all day and all night. Gambled til I didn't have a dime to my name and no luck. I even turned to helpin' out on small jobs in the underground. Any'ting to get a buck for the next drink or the slots."

"Pathetic," Midnight commented without compassion. Piper laughed.

"Hells yeah, I was. Til Dreamy came along."

His expression changed. The smile lost its bitterness and turned soft. He stopped picking at the table and rested his chin on his knuckles.

"Met her on the street while I was beggin' for change. The damn girl felt so bad for me she put me up in a hotel for the night. Fed me. Talked to me. Made me feel like a person again." He smiled warmly at the memories. "Figured she'd move on after that, but the doll kept showin' up! Kept visitin' the casino to see me. Kept tellin' me I was better than I knew I was. And after a couple months, I guess I started to believe her. Before I knew it I was in Fairy Tail, soberin' up, eating three squares a day and sleeping in a real bed. She saved my life, bub."

He paused for a long moment and his expression hardened again. "I love her. You's know that, don't you?"

Midnight's expression was unchanging. "It's safe to say that everyone knows that."

"Yeah, and everyone knows she don't feel the same way about me." He sighed and looked longingly at his water cup, like he wished it were something else. "I used to thinks she did. I t'ought I was special. But like I told you's, ain't no one special to Dreamy. She loves every damn broken soul on this planet. She's tryin' to make up for things she can't change and it ain't personal. It's just the way it is."

Midnight finally looked away, though his face remained guarded.

"Here's your food!" The waitress put the plates in front of them. "I'm sorry, it looks like I interrupted an important conversation! If you need me, just call!" She waved and ran off.

The men ate in silence. Midnight merely picked at his salad before setting it aside and meeting Piper's eyes again.

"Tell me about her." The command was serious.

"Ain't happenin.'" Piper said through a mouthful of cheese and meat.

Midnight's eyes flashed in warning. "I'm getting bored with not knowing the whole story."

"I ain't here to satisfy your sadistic kicks," Piper snapped.

"No, you're here to protect Dreamer." Midnight leaned slightly across the table, his voice dark. "If you want my help, then tell me why I should care about any of this."

Piper glared right back at him, a look of disgust contorting his feature. "I really hate you's."

"The feeling is mutual."

"I'll tell you about her, but only so's you get a better grasp of the fact she ain't lookin' to be with you's."

Midnight smirked at this comment but said nothing.

"You's already know Syllest's her neice, not her daughter," Piper said. Midnight nodded. "Well, Dreamy's sister was a girl named Rosy. All this happened before I was in the picture, mind you's, so not even I knows all the details." He wiped his lips with a napkin and cleaned his goatee.

"Rosy and Dreamy were pretty close, I guess. Til Rosy married a real jerk. I guess she looked happy from the outside, but it was a mess at home. Round the same time Rosy had Syllest, the hubby got scary mean. Dreamy don't talk about the details, but I'm guessing her sis wasn't leavin' the house without bruises, if you's knows what I mean."

Midnight knew. He'd seen plenty of abuse in his life.

"When Syllest was six months old, her daddy killed her ma."

This, Midnight was not expecting. His eyes widened in surprise. Piper nodded to confirm that he heard him right.

"Psychopath did it with a smile on his face too. I guess he tried to take Syllest and hit the road after that, but the law intervened. The bastard got away, but Syllest was safe and Dreamer took her in.

"Thing is… I think Dreamy beats herself up about it. Her magic feels emotion, don't it? Motives… My guess is she knew all along the hubby wasn't a nice guy, but she never stood up for her sis or something… She probably feels like she coulda' done something more—anything to protect Rosy. But she couldn't. And now she's overly protective of Syllest and she's got this savior complex where she tries to turn assholes like you's and me into nice guys, as if it will make up for what she thinks she failed to do all those years ago." He shook his head and sighed.

"And if you ain't pieced it together already… Resmond, the King of Diamonds… He's Syllest's pops. The one who killed Rosy."

It all made sense. Dreamer's over protectiveness of Syllest. The way she seemed to despise Syllestra's magic, which was most likely inherited from her father—the one who killed Dreamer's sister. Her paranoia… The way she was always looking over her shoulder, always uncertain and fearful.

"What does he want with them?" Midnight asked. "What does Resmond want with Dreamer and Syllest?"

Piper shrugged and shook his head. "It beats me, but this guy… He's evil. Makes you's look like a cupcake in comparison. Maybe he just thinks it's time he stopped being a deadbeat and took Syllest under his wing, hell if I knows. All's I know is that he's dangerous and he ain't comin' within a thousand miles of my girls!"

Midnight closed his eyes and processed all of this. Resmond, King of Diamonds, was hunting for Syllest, his daughter. And if he was also the one responsible for the slave and diamond transport, he was planning something. And as for Dreamer… His mind wandered.

"Well… There you's have it. That's the big secret. If Dreamy asks, you's figured it out on your own, though. I ain't getting' slapped for this."

Midnight rubbed his own cheek where she'd slapped him once before. "Thank you for telling me."

Piper gaped at him, eyes bugging out of his head. "What?"

Midnight wasn't even looking at him anymore. He burrowed in his seat with his eyes closed. Snoring.

"I knows you's ain't sleeping! Did I really hear you's say 'thank you' just now?!"

"Excuse me," the waitress appeared again. "I've got your bill when you're ready!"

Midnight opened one eye and looked at Piper. "I don't have my wallet."

Piper's temple pulsed. "You what?!"

Midnight shrugged. "I only got a salad. It shouldn't be a problem for you to pay," he said, smirking at the irritation on Piper's face.

"You're pushing your luck, bubs…" He grumbled and paid the bill. The woman giggled giddily. "What's up with you, doll? You been laughing your head off since we walked in."

"Oh, I'm sorry! It's just… My coworkers and I agree…" She looked over at a group of giggling waitresses. "You're the cutest couple we've gotten in here for months!"

Piper jerked back so hard that he spilled water all over the table and himself. "W-We, WHAT?!"

Midnight laughed out loud.

"Doll, you's got the wrong idea! It ain't like that!" Piper jumped up, totally soaked in water.

"Really?" The waitress looked so surprised. "But I thought… I mean picking a secluded booth, and the way he wouldn't let you get a drink, and how he got a salad because he was embarrassed of looking like a fatty in front of you, and the way you were staring into each other's eyes and talking all quietly when I brought you the food, and how you paid the bill… Are you sure you're not a couple?"

"Damn sure!" Piper's voice cracked in the panic. "I ain't gay!"

"Really?" She blinked again. "But you've got that look."

"ME?! He's the one with lipstick and eyeshadow and _I'm_ the one with the look?! The hell?!"

"Don't be shy, Piper," Midnight teased, the sadistic smirk wide on his face.

"Shut the hell up, bub, unless you's want me to knock you out with my dice!"

"Bring it on."

"Please, no lover's spats in the restaurant."

"WE AIN'T LOVERS!"

"But we do share a bedroom."

"WHO THE HELL'S SIDE ARE YOU ON?!"

Luckily, by the time they left the restaurant, the sun had set, the moon had risen, and the lights to Love and Lucky had been shut off. And when Piper and Midnight walked out into the dimly lit streets, the dynamic between them had changed, if ever so slightly. They shared one common goal.

Find Resmond. Make him suffer.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, there you have it. Piper's backstory, or the gist of it anyway. Along with new info about Dreamer and Syllestra's backstory as well, and the villainous Resmond...**

 **Ori, you mentioned wondering about what the rest of Fairy Tail would be doing during all of this. Well, if you'll notice, I took great care making sure the events in my fic line up with events that happened in the anime. For example, in the Rose Garden arc, Fairy Tail was busy having its annual race, and the action with Dreamer, Syllest, Jezran, and Midnight occurred in a town a few hours away from Magnolia. This way, there's a distinct impossibility of the rest of the Fairy Tail guild helping when stuff goes down. Or, as you can see from this chapter, Piper is keeping this duo mission a secret from the rest of Fairy Tail because of a pact made with Love and Lucky between the guilds. I did this on purpose because, if it all happened conveniently when the other Fairy Tail members were available to help, there really wouldn't be a plot line. Natsu or Erza or whoever else would come busting into the scene to save the day and make it look easy. You'll see throughout this fic that I frequently set up barriers like this. Though there _are_ instances where the rest of Fairy Tail does help, because, after all, they are all a family. The idea here, is that there are many, many Fairy Tail guild members, each with their own set of problems, jobs, and chaos to deal with. I really wanted to limit how often the guild front-runners came to the rescue, because I don't think that's realistically what would happen in a guild with so many people. **

* * *

**Next: The Development of Piper**

 **Oh, Piper. He has taken me by surprise more than any of the other OC's I've created.**

 **To start, my number one aim with this fic was to make it as close to the real anime as possible. That's why I mostly stick to the original timeline, I _do_ include snippets with all the other members of the guild, I employ fillers to break up the heavy stuff... I wanted to create such a suspension of disbelief, that when you readers are watching Fairy Tail and see a bunch of faceless, nameless extra characters in the background of guild activities, you can actually imagine Team Derelict Heart among them. This is why I didn't make Dreamer super connected to any of the original characters. She's not Natsu's sister or, Lucy's long lost cousin who's actually a doll... (Though she is Mira's best friend. I figured that was a loose enough connection which would still make Dreamer seem like part of the group). For this reason, I took great effort to give Dreamer her own place in the guild, her own friends and teammates and family. It's why I created Team Derelict Heart. **

**I used Team Shadow Gear as a reference for Team Derelict Heart. A sweet girl (Levy/Dreamer), with two loyal, over-protective weirdo dudes who follow her around like dogs (Jet and Droy/Piper and Jezran), who falls for an ex-asshole with black hair and red eyes (Gajeel/Midnight) xD. I also took the gag of Jet and Droy being obviously obsessed with Levy, and began to create Piper. He was originally meant to be just a gag character. That obnoxious guy who's in love with "Dreamy."**

 **In creating his personality and looks, I chose the archetype "bad boy." Think Grease: Motorcycles, accents, cigarettes. I literally compiled a list of things stereo-typically applied to the "bad boy" persona, and created Piper. Tattoos, piercings, leather vests, gambling, drinking, goatees, mohawks... BAM PIPER WAS BORN.**

 **Like I said, he was seriously supposed to be a stereotype. A flat, archetype bad boy, obsessed-with-Dreamer gag. But as I continued to write for him, he developed on his own. A little more with each sentence, each paragraph... He's a character who has had a mind of his own, and has grown into a complex, lovable dork of a character more than just "some punk who likes Dreamer."**

 **And, of course, I have a theme of reformation in this story. So, in developing his backstory, I had to come up with a "before" Piper, and an "after" Piper. That's how I came up with his being an alcoholic and gambling addict. There's also a "before" Jezran, and an "after" Jezran, which I'll explain another day.**

 **Piper is still a funny gag character though, even with the added complexity. It's a gag that he's an ex-alcoholic, always craving a drink. It's a gag that he loves Dreamer. But my favorite gag, is his rivalry with Midnight. Specifically, their roommate situation. I think it's freaking hilarious how angry Midnight makes Piper, and how Midnight just thinks it's amusing. xD I have an entire filler chapter written entirely from Piper's point of view, which is all about a "day in the life of Piper," and it's potentially the funniest thing I've ever written.**

 **Anyway! That's Piper in a nutshell! Let me know what character you guys want me to write about next!**


	31. Snakes and Kings

**A/N: I'm sorry that I caused some confusion about the update schedule. I'll be posting twice a week, every other week, and once a week in between. This is an "on" week, so I'm posting Monday and Friday. Next week is an "off" week, so I'll only be posting on Monday. The week after that will be an "on" week, so I'll post on Monday and Friday, then an "off" week, and so on.**

 **I try to post around midnight (United States MST) so that the chapter is available on Monday. On these "on" weeks, I'll post on Friday as well (though I'm not as picky about the time. I'll at least try to post in the morning).**

 **I hope that clears up any confusion. Let me know if I need to clarify further!**

* * *

 **Chapter 31: Snakes and Kings**

Most of the lights were off in the Love and Lucky guild. It was likely that the main corridor lights were kept on at night to ward away would-be thieves.

"It ain't a mage guild, so I ain't really concerned about security," Piper whispered as they snuck onto the property by climbing over the fence. "Guess they might have one wizard security guard or something,' but you's and me could take 'im easy."

Midnight said nothing, merely followed Piper like a dark shadow. They approached a side door and Piper crouched in front of the door knob. He pulled a pin out of his pocket and jabbed it into the keyhole.

"You know how to pick locks," Midnight stated simply.

"Well duh," Piper rolled his eyes. "You know how many people lock up their hard liquor?"

Midnight withheld a chuckle, but not a smirk.

After a minute or so of the grinding sound of metal in the keyhole, there was a click. "Got it." Piper swung the door open.

As expected, the building was basically deserted. Still, they crept silently, keeping to the shadows in case there were members who'd decided to stay late and do paperwork. They had decided to search for the record-keeping room, to see if they could look deeper into the shipments. It didn't take long to find a map of the building, conveniently posted on a wall next to a fire extinguisher.

"Looks like it's in the basement," Piper whispered, as he studied the layout.

It was almost too easy. They didn't run into anyone on their way down the stairs to the basement. There was one more locked door which Piper easily rendered useless. Inside, the records were kept in neat filing cabinets, conveniently dated for Piper and Midnight's easy use. They found the folder for all the shipments in the last month and divvied up the forms so they could cover more ground together.

Minutes ticked by—the only sound the occasional shuffling of papers.

"You got anyt'ing?" Piper looked up from the last paper in his hands.

"No." Midnight slid the papers to him.

"No records of slave or diamond shipments. I guess I ain't surprised. If someone's doin' this secretly in the guild, they're keepin' it under wraps. Love and Lucky probably ain't got any idea of what's happenin' under their noses."

It made sense, but it left them with no leads.

"We gotta keep lookin,'" Piper said, frustration clear in his clenched teeth.

They continued to dig for information until the door to the storage room squeaked. The sound made both of them turn on their heels to face the door, dramatically knocking folders and forms to the ground in the process.

A middle-aged man stood in the doorway, with blond hair and a mustache. He had a heavy brow and wrinkles that suggested he'd spent most of his life frowning. He was frowning now, as he surveyed the mess and the two wizards in the room.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, eyes going wide.

Piper glanced at Midnight, then back at the unexpected intruder.

This man didn't seem to radiate any kind of magical energy. He was likely just some guy who'd worked late into the night and was coming down to file his paperwork. He certainly carried the arrogant aura of someone whose life is dedicated to their work, anyway. Piper's eyes narrowed at Midnight, warning him not to hurt him.

"You can't be thieves or you would have been searching the vault… So what are you doing here?"

"Listen, bub," Piper raised his hands, slowly. "We ain't here to cause problems, alright? We're _just_ lookin' for some information."

"What sort of information?" The man asked. His eyes scanned the room, glancing swiftly at a switch on the wall next to him. He stepped carefully to the side, fingers reaching for the switch until a dark magical energy snatched his sleeve and yanked him away from the wall.

"Don't you dare," Midnight hissed, darkly. He held the man by the sleeve, preventing him from sounding the alarm.

"Buddy, we're tryin' to stop a real bad guy—" Piper kept his hands raised to show innocence. "I swears to you, we ain't gonna cause any harm to you or your guild."

The man looked at him and blinked, his eyes narrowing as he scanned Piper over.

"That mark on your wrist… You're with that guild. Fairy Tail."

Piper looked down at the inside of his forearm where his black guild mark was. He cursed under his breath. Covering it up would have been wise, considering the treaty Master had with Love and Lucky. He'd been in such a rush to follow the lead on Resmond, that he hadn't even thought about it.

"Good job, fool," Midnight snapped at him.

"I… Uh, we…" Piper scrambled for an excuse, a lie, anything.

"My daughter is one of your members." The man seemed to relax. He straightened his posture and absentmindedly smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from his suit. "Lucy. Lucy Heartfilia."

Piper's eyes went wide. His hands slapped against his pants as he dropped his arms. "No way, you're kidding! Lucy's your kiddo?"

"Yes." He nodded seriously. His frown flickered into a smile at the mention of the celestial wizard. "How is she? Is she doing well? Does she need anything? Anything at all?"

Piper thought about it, then quickly shook his head as if to right his focus. "She's fine, bubs. But we ain't really here to chat about your kid."

"Right. You're looking for information." Lucy's father nodded. "Perhaps I can be of assistance."

"Wait, you'd really help us out? After we's broke into your guild?"

"Yes. If you are friends of Lucy's, then I trust you have good reason for being here." He nodded. "What is it you're looking for?"

Piper nodded at Midnight. "Let 'im go."

Midnight sighed and released the magical energy around the man's wrist. "Pity. I was hoping to kill something tonight."

"Don't listen to him Lucy's Pops. He's just an asshole." Piper walked over and offered a hand to shake. "Name's Piper.

"I'm just gonna jump right into it. Someone's been making shipment requests from your guild and we need to knows who and where the shipments are showing up. I'll say it again, we're lookin' for a real nasty guy."

"My name is Jude. What kind of shipments?" Lucy's father briskly shook his hand and headed for a filing cabinet.

"One ship was packin' diamonds and the other one… slaves." Piper leaned back on the heel of his boot as he watched him go to work.

"Slaves?" Jude Heartfilia blinked in surprise. "Love and Lucky would never be involved in slave trade! We're not some self-important dark guild with no respect for the law or human decency!"

Midnight scowled. Piper shot him another warning glance.

"Yeah, we knows that," Piper said. "But some illegal smugglers swear they gots requests from you's for those things in particular."

"Hm…" Jude looked through the same papers Piper and Midnight had searched.

"We already checked there, bub."

"If what you're saying is true, then it's likely there's someone in our guild who is participating in illegal activities unbeknownst to us. And if that is the case, then there's a possibility…" His eyes narrowed at the page and he thrust a finger at it. "Yes! That must be it!"

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Piper leaned over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. "You seeing something I ain't?"

Jude was pointing at a shipment record labeled "Coal," dated for two weeks ago. "You see, I am aware that Love and Lucky stopped coal trade before I even joined the guild. The record of this shipment must be forged. This one is likely as well." He pointed to another line. "Both of these shipment receipts were signed by…" He shook his head. "Giseld? I know her personally and there's simply no way she knowingly forged receipts."

"I wouldn't put it past Res to blackmail someone into doin' his dirty work," Piper grumbled. He was about to ask another question when a female voice resounded in the room.

"You've got it all wrong."

A woman stepped out of the shadows, as if she'd been there the whole time. She was tall and slender, with green hair and dark eyes, dressed in the Love and Lucky guild uniform.

"Resmond didn't blackmail me," she said, her voice low and lulling. "All he had to do was ask. I'd do anything for my king…"

"Giseld?!" Jude blinked in disbelief. "I don't believe it! You're loyal to the guild. You could not possibly have committed these crimes!"

"Oh please, Mr. Heartfilia." She rolled her dark eyes and cackled, a piercing laugh. "There's only one whom I'm loyal to." Her eyes glazed over. "My holy King of Diamonds."

Piper took a defensive stance. "Watch out, Night. She's got a strong magical energy around her."

Midnight didn't seem concerned in the slightest. He faced the woman with his hand on his hip, smirking ever-so-slightly.

"Hey, old man. You's might wanna step back," Piper stepped in front of Lucy's father, protectively.

"You…" Giseld cocked her head, causing loose green curls to fall in front of her shoulder. "The King told me I might run into you two. Blue hair and a stupid expression. And the ex-member of the Oracion Seis." She narrowed her eyes them both. "You disgust me!" Without warning, a cluster of green snakes shot from her sleeve, fangs exposed. Piper jumped to the side and Midnight used his magic to curve the path of the living weapons around him.

Jude gripped the wall behind him, eyes wide as he watched what an exchange looked like between powerful wizards. "This is the type of thing my Lucy does?"

Giseld took a step forward, her face shrouded in an evil glare. She bared her teeth, showing fangs that grew and sharpened. "You think the two of you can step into _her_ life and play 'daddy?' It's sick!" The snakes that she'd released had crawled back while the two men were facing her, and now slithered around their ankles. Midnight made a face of disgust and easily discarded them. Piper, on the other hand, struggled to kick the dozens of scaly creatures away from him.

"The King is her only father! And his little princess belongs back in her castle!"

Piper's face twisted in fear and he gave a girly scream as a snake slithered higher up his body. "It _had_ to be snakes, dammit! I mean what are the chances?!"

Midnight waved a hand and the snakes on Piper were cast away like nothing more than worms. "Tell me, pest of a woman… What delusional dream does your _king_ think he's going to make a reality?"

"My King…" She clutched her hands to her bosom and sighed in pleasure. "My sweet King is going to claim the kingdom he rightfully deserves. And he'll make me his queen! And we'll raise our little princess to inherit the kingdom one day!"

"Who you callin' your little princess, doll?" Piper snapped. "You's better not be talking about Syllest, because she belongs to nobody's 'cept Dreamy!"

"Don't you dare mention that wench in my presence!" The woman screeched, her eyes turning into snake-like slits.

"Ah, shit…" Piper looked around the storage room… And started to run. "Come on, old man! Hey, bastard! You comin?'" He dragged Jude by the wrist out the door and called back to Midnight.

Midnight followed with a disinterested yawn. "Are you that afraid, Piper?" His tone was mocking.

"Hell yeah, I am! I'm afraid of Master getting' pissed at us for destroyin' Love and Lucky! If we're gonna battle, let's take it to the streets!"

They ran and skidded to a halt on the outskirts of town. "Get out of here, old man!" Piper shoved Lucy's father toward the path. "Last thing we's need is a hostage situation!"

Jude nodded. "Please, tell Lucy I am thinking of her." He ran in the direction Piper had pointed.

In hardly any time, the ground shook and Giseld rose from the soil on the head of an oversized green reptile. Her Love and Lucky uniform had been discarded in favor of a sparkling black dress that hugged her curves tightly, down to black stilettos. Her nails grew into claws, painted a twinkling green. The snake she stood on gave a long hiss, its forked tongue flicking out between dripping fangs.

Piper's face drained of color.

"Snakes… Had to be snakes." He fumbled in his pocket for his dice.

The grass crunched as Midnight strolled casually into the clearing behind the snake-woman. His hands rested in his pockets, but his eyes shone with bloodlust. "Piper." His voice was a command. "Stay out of this. You'll only get in my way." He lifted his hand and dark magical energy surrounded the snake, which hissed in pain and threw Giseld off of it. She landed nimbly on her feet and faced him, baring her own set of fangs.

"No way in hell!" Piper shot back. "And let you's take all the glory? You's gotta be kiddin,' bubs!"

Midnight smirked. "As you wish. But don't complain if you get hurt. I don't care whose blood I shed, as long as I get to hear a lullaby of screams tonight." His grin widened. "It's been too long." A tremble of excitement actually went through his outstretched hands.

"Don't kill her befores we get some info out of her, got it?" Piper snapped. "But as far as beating the doll senseless to get your sadistic kicks… Be my guest!"

Giseld held out her hands and drew them upward, summoning more snakes from the ground, upturning the soil, filling the air with a din of hissing. They slithered at her feet by the hundreds. Piper instinctively jumped another three feet back.

"My darlings are going to squeeze the life out of your bodies and devour you whole," Giseld shrieked. "My King will be so proud of me…" Derision was reflected in her eyes, as they dilated and returned to slits. She ran her long nails up her torso and sighed in pleasure. "He'll craft me a black diamond ring and make his bride at last!" Her laugh echoed in the clearing, maniacal—insane.

"I'm going to kill you, in the name of my King!"

* * *

 **A/N: There's your extra chapter for the week!  
**

 **Cheezy, you want a chapter with just Midnight tormenting Piper? xD Lucky for you, I have just that. It's a filler that I won't release until later though, but if you like the relationship between Midnight and Piper, you'll love it.**

 **howlingwolvesonfire, I wouldn't be too worried about Piper's fragile heart if I were you. ;) He has a couple of other romance interests besides Dreamy. One of which I have already hinted at in a previous chapter.**

 **Simana, I will tell you that Zero/Brain will not be making an appearance in this part of the story. But I left that avenue open in case you readers demand a sequel in the future. ;)**

 **Okay, now for a development section. I had a request for Syllest/Resmond, or Jezran. I think I'll go with Jezran so I can give you guys a full understanding of Team Derelict Heart.**

 **The Development of (Pops) Jezran**

 **I already told you that I used Team Shadow Gear as a reference for creating Derelict Heart. Thus, I wanted to create two male characters who are completely loyal to protecting Dreamer. That's where I started with Jezran. After creating Piper, I thought about who the other man would be. Since Piper was the archetype bad-boy, I decided to make the exact opposite of him. What's the opposite of a young punk? A respectable old man, of course! xD That was the easy part. While I was developing his character, I decided early on to use the "dear me" tic. It seemed like a very butler-y thing to say, and I love when there are a few characters in an anime with a vocal tic like that. Plus, the Fairy Tail universe seems to be fraught with them!**

 **That was the ONLY easy part of Jezran's creation. He's been an incredibly difficult character to break out of his archetype mold, but I believe I've been successful. Deciding on his magic was incredibly difficult. I didn't even have a hint of what it was until I wrote the Rose Garden arc and he used his pocketwatch to track Syllestra. That was when I decided he would have some sort of tracking abilities. It seemed to suit him because of his attention to detail which borders on Sherlock Holmes-ish. I refined it into tracking that specifically targets magic, refined even to the point that Jezran knows all the channels of magical energy in a human body (which follow the accupressure system), and he can manipulate those channels. (Think Neji from Naruto and the palm techniques). You guys won't see his magic in full action until later though.**

 **Originally, Jezran was supposed to literally be Dreamer's grandfather. That's actually how I wrote him before I went back and edited those details out. I had included memories that Dreamer had of family events with Jezran involved even. But I decided to change this so I could stay true to Dreamer's story. As Piper said in the last chapter, she's got a savior complex. She takes losers and reforms them into good people. I want this to be a clear theme in her life, showing how her sister's murder had a profound effect on her life. So, I decided to make Jezran one of those people whom she reformed.**

 **That opened a world of opportunity to me. I had to decide what kind of life Jezran lived, and how a respectable old man could ever have had a "before" where he was anything other than a cool butler who slathers mustard on bread for Dreamer. I developed a pretty extensive backstory for him, which unfortunately I can't talk too much about because spoilers, but Syllestra already hinted on part of it. If you'll recall, she mentioned that he was "an evil spy for Pergrande who [might have] killed people." This statement is not too far off from the truth.**

 **He also has ties to Porlyusica, Makarov, and perhaps some other characters. He's also clearly very wealthy, or at least has access to massive fortunes, which should have occurred to you as strange, because why would a rich old guy be in a wizarding guild in the first place? ;)**

 **He's a very deep character, though much of his depth doesn't reveal itself until later chapters. In the meantime, you can appreciate him as the kind old man who makes everyone drink tea with him in the morning, serves mustard sandwiches, and says "dear me."**


	32. The Snake-Lady Giseld!

**Chapter 32: The Snake-Lady: Giseld!**

In a clearing just outside of Acalypha town, two male wizards faced off against a woman opponent. Her hair was forest green, slithering down her back like the snakes that waited at her beck and call. The Love and Lucky guild uniform she'd been wearing was now a spiked dress made of scales that shimmered in the pale moonlight. Long, green fingernails tapped in the air as if she were controlling a marionette, causing a massive snake to right itself beside her, until its forked tongue flicked out over her shoulder.

The air was still—not even a breeze to break the tension between the three magic-users. To the right of the snake-user, blanching slightly at the sight of the snake beside her, was a man in leather, and holey jeans, with a half-shaved head of powder-blue hair. To her left was a man in a long coat with a white fur scarf wrapped around his neck—dual-colored curly hair, and sinister red eyes.

Piper and Midnight. Giseld.

 _The battle began._

The large snake moved suddenly toward Midnight. The dark mage didn't even flinch. There was a strange sound around him and the snake's body curved, changing its trajectory so that it's attack landed on the rocks behind him. Giseld wasted no time in making her next move, however. The new location gave her the perfect opportunity to guide the snake's tail upward for a slash at Piper. The dice wizard blocked in the nick of time with his forearm, but sweatdropped when the snake's tail wrapped around his arm.

The creature lifted him into the air with its tail while Giseld laughed hysterically in the center of the clearing. Piper yelped and swatted at the snake tail. "GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!"

Midnight sighed and lifted his hand, which manipulated the snake's tail and released Piper to the ground with a thud. "This is horribly boring," he complained.

"So, you can reflect magic attacks and also manipulate magical energy," Giseld lifted her hand. Her pet returned to her side immediately. "How did you know that my snakes aren't alive?"

Midnight stroked the fur scarf around his neck. "It's too easy," he said, with an air of arrogance. "Obviously you're not a summoner because you create the snakes out of nothing. A summoner would need a tool or at least a magic circle to bring forth living creatures. Your creatures are nothing but puppets made from your own magical energy, which makes your attacks completely useless against me."

Piper stood up and dusted off his rear before raising an eyebrow in Midnight's direction. He'd figured all of that out? They hadn't even been in combat for five minutes!

"We'll see about that!" Giseld jumped back onto the head of her snake and thrust her hand open toward Midnight again. The large snake's mouth opened and a dozen smaller snakes shot out of it toward him.

"I already told you," he scoffed, "it's useless." The same mechanical whirring sound of his magic enunciated the act of reflecting the snakes around him.

"Bubs! Watch it!" Piper called out, suddenly.

Giseld's face had broken into a toothy smile. Midnight's eyes widened and he dodged to the left, narrowly avoiding the dripping fangs of a snake. When he looked back at the woman, he noticed for the first time the glowing green ring she wore on her right hand.

"Do you like it?" She giggled and held it toward him. "It was a gift from the king!" She kissed the ring. "You see, I _do_ make snakes from my magical energy. But you were wrong in assuming I can't summon them as well. And now I know you can't manipulate living things!"

"Pay attention, bub!" Piper's voice resounded again and there were three soft thuds in the ground just behind Midnight's feet. Giseld's smile fell and Midnight stepped back to find the same snake that had tried to bite him before—now pinned dead to the ground by three sharp casino chips. "If you don't kill those things, they'll just come back and bite you in the ass! Literally!"

Giseld scoffed indignantly, her body now trembling in wild rage. "You'll pay for killing one of my pets!" Her attention was now focused on Piper. She shot a dozen more snakes toward him, which he blocked with a magic-circle shield in the shape of a roulette table.

"Keep. The damn. Snakes. Away from me!" He rolled his red dice into the air and watched as a "four" and a "one" shone above them. "Royal Flush!"

From the dice sprang five figures dressed in red, each with a card symbol on their chest. An Ace, King, Queen, Jack, and Ten. The characters charged at Giseld. Snakes rose from the ground to block their attacks. She punched and kicked, one-by-one causing the card characters to vanish in a puff of red smoke. Until a boot collided with her chest and knocked her back.

"How's that for a king?!" Piper whooped nearby. The king of hearts card lifted his scepter to bring it down on her, but its clubbed head was caught in the jaws of a snake. Giseld quickly rolled to the side and snatched the scepter out of the snake's mouth. She leapt forward onto the card character and stabbed his own scepter through his body. He puffed in a burst of red and turned back into a card.

"You know nothing of true royalty!" She screeched. "My king is nothing short of a god!" She snapped her fingers and her large snake disappeared to be replaced with one hardly the size of her pinky.

"It appears she summons worms as well," Midnight mocked. "Fitting, for an insect."

"Rattle, my pet!"

The little snake lifted its tail and began to shake. Instantly, the air was filled with a thunderous rattle, so painfully loud that it brought Piper and Midnight to their knees. The vibrations shook their bodies, causing searing pain to bounce in their skulls. She took advantage of their paralysis and set another snake on Midnight. He tried to move but the sound made him sluggish. He lifted his hand toward Giseld, willing his magic to reach her in time. The rattling stopped suddenly as dark energy crushed the organ at the end of the snake's tail. He was too late, however. At the same time the rattling stopped, a striped snake sank its fangs into his pant leg.

"Midnight!" Piper called out as Midnight fell to his knees, crying out in pain. "Dammit!" He quickly rolled his dice again. "Three Match Payoff!"

A loud clamor of ringing and flashing lights filled the air. Giseld cried out in surprise and Piper rushed forward to land a punch under her jaw. The force threw her back several feet. She stood up, weakly, and rubbed where a bruise was forming. "How dare you hit a girl!"

"Lady, are you's crazy?!" Piper heaved for breath and stared across the clearing at her. "Do you's even know what kinds of things your 'king' has done? You's knows he used ta hit a girl all the time, don't you?"

"LIAR!" She screamed and a snake suddenly rose up from under Piper's feet and coiled around him, lifting him into the air. "Resmond is a perfect gentleman! He would NEVER do something so despicable!"

Piper grasped at the slowly tightening skin of the boa constrictor, looking panicked. "Doll, what the hell you's think happened to Syllest's mom anyway?!" His green eyes bore into hers.

"She killed herself because Resmond left her! She wasn't good enough for him!" Tears welled in her dark eyes. "But _I'M_ good enough for him!"

"He's… lying to you's, Giseld," Piper choked against the snake's grip. "'e killed her. And he'd do's the same to you in a heartbeat if he decided you's was useless to him."

"No… No he wouldn't! My King loves me!" She clutched her head in her hands.

Piper cursed under his breath and managed to wiggle his wrist out between the coils of the snake. "One last try…" He groaned and rolled his dice, which tumbled to the ground.

"Snake eyes."

The ground began to shake. Giseld looked down in surprise. The earth split apart and a giant stone snake, at least five times the size of her large pet, rose in front of her. "A snake?" She blinked, as if totally surprised at being faced with her own type of magic.

The stone cobra moved hypnotically in front of her, its jewel eyes glowing. She fell into a trance, arms going slack as she watched its eyes. Those eyes rolled like slot machines, slowly ticking down to land on skulls and crossbones. The stone snake unhinged its jaws widely and prepared to strike. But just as it began to lunge, one of Giseld's living snakes bit her on the hand, shocking her out of the trance. She dodged, avoiding most of the cataclysmic blow, though the stone snake's hard head collided harshly with her side.

She cried out in pain and limped further out of the creature's path as it returned to the cracked soil. The turmoil had caused the boa constrictor to release its hold on Piper, who was clutching his throat and kneeling on one knee.

"Y-You let your own pet poison you?" Piper gaped at her.

"I've built up an immunity to their poison," she said weakly in response, struggling to remain standing. "That poison can kill in only moments, such as in the case of your unfortunate friend." She glanced over her shoulder at Midnight sprawled in the dirt. "But I am unaffected."

"Well damn…" Piper groaned. His vision was blurry, his muscles weak. The sight of Midnight motionless on the ground only furthered the sense of doom. His eyes lingered on his fallen comrade.

"And now, since you're going to die anyway, I guess I'll tell you about my king's new kingdom…" Her eyes sparkled with love and desire. She held her hands out toward the sky, nails catching moonlight. "Sweet Resmond is going to unleash a weapon upon this world. And when he wipes out half of Earthland, he'll build a new kingdom from black diamonds, and a grand castle where we will rule together with our princess for an eternity!" She cackled maniacally, an eerie and high sound that sliced the night air.

"That so?" Piper weakly raised his hand, which was full of sharpened casino chips.

"Fool!" She hissed. "You won't even be able to hit me with those!" Snakes wrapped protectively around her.

Piper mustered up what was left of his magic energy and thrust the handful of chips in her direction. She laughed out loud and easily sidestepped all of them. "Oh _please_! You can't even aim! Just lay there and die so that my pets can have a snack!" She raised her hand but paused when she saw the grin on Piper's face.

"Hate to break your heart, doll, but I wasn't aiming for you."

Giseld gasped at the same time a metallic whirring sounded behind her. She turned, unfortunately just in time for a handful of sharpened casino chips to shoot through her chest. The blades erupted from her back, spattering screeching snakes and soil with her blood. She fell to her knees, slit eyes returning to a normal state as she stared at Midnight standing casually before her.

The reflector mage looked down at her with an arrogant smirk, his red eyes swirling with bloodlust. Wind tossed dual-colored hair and a white fur scarf, making him appear to her as some kind of specter, a ruby-eyed demon of wind.

"H-How?"

Midnight casually reached down to lift his pant leg, revealing a thick, white-leather boot that rose far above the place her snake had bit him. He'd only pretended he was bitten, and laid low until the opportunity came for him to strike her from behind.

"N-No…" She slumped forward. "My King… He'll never forgive me… He won't love me anymore…" Her tears splattered onto the earth and she coughed up blood. "Resmond…"

"Hate to break it to you, lady," Piper groaned and stood up, "but that guy never loved you's in the first place."

Midnight strode forward, malice in his sadistic eyes. He went so far as to lick his lip as he approached her, eager to make her writhe in pain.

"No, bubs." Piper held a hand up. "That's enough. We ain't gotsta kill her."

Red eyes sent him a threatening glare, the bloodlust still obvious.

"She'd never forgive you, you's know." Piper continued. It was clear that

He wasn't talking about Giseld.

Midnight stopped walking. He looked down at Giseld's now unconscious form. For a moment, the darkness in his eyes swirled, consumed him. For a moment he was a simple assassin, obeying orders from his beloved Father, and relishing in the moment before he got to see his prey squeal for mercy. He held a gloved hand out, fingers twitching in anticipation. One move and he could send her into spiraling pain, and watch her body contort in agony. For the briefest moment, that was exactly what he intended to do.

But he didn't.

"Feh." His hand dropped. He turned and started out of the clearing without looking back. "Killing her would be a waste of time."

Piper couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. He stumbled after Midnight, leaving the snake-woman alone in the clearing. "I gotsta admit, Night. That was pretty damn good teamwork. Never thought your cross-dressing fetish would save my life."

Midnight said nothing at all. His boots clicked on the pavement as he walked, left one still sporting two holes from snake fangs.

"So you's knows, this doesn't make us friends," Piper added. "I ain't experiencing any male bonding from fighting by your side in combat or not'ing, alright? As far as you're concerned, I still hate you's and thinks you're a sadistic, woman-stealing, girly-looking asshole, you gots it?"

"And I still think you're a pathetically weak fairy-rat whom I'd very much like to see writhing in a pool of blood."

"Good. We're on the same page."

They walked back through town, dirty, sweaty, and weak—now clad with information about Resmond and a victory under their belts.

/

From the window of a burger joint where a few waitresses were closing up shop for the night, one of them squealed and pressed her face against the glass. "Oh my gosh, they are seriously the cutest couple!"

* * *

 **A/N:  
**

 **Simana, you got me! Actually, I didn't notice that Giseld's magic is reminiscent of Orochimaru's jutsu, but it's very possible that I was influenced by it. I was fairly obsessed with the Naruto fandom for many years, particularly with Orochimaru, so it's likely some of that subconsciously comes through in my writing at times. And YES, picturing Jezran's hands moving at Neji speed is exactly the right idea. xD  
**

 **Also, this fic is a total of 75 chapters long. I am currently on chapter 73. There will also be 10 chapters that I release post-fic, which are sort of like extra content to keep you guys entertained as I work on the sequel. I followed the concept of OVAs there. I have an AU chapter, a hot springs chapter, etc. Bonus content for your reading pleasure.**

 **Let's see, when did I start working on this fic? Um... It was last summer. I think I started posting in the fall, and I'd been writing for a couple of months before , it was early August when I started crafting this thing together.  
**

 **The Development of Syllestra**

 **Alright, now that I've talked about Team Derelict Heart, I guess I'll move on to lovable little Syllest now.  
**

 **Well, to start, back in a creative writing class several years ago, my teacher said something that has resounded with me for all these years. "Write what you know." The concept of this was to put little pieces of yourself in all of your characters, bits of your life experiences in your plots, because that's the only way the readers will believe your story. I say that to caveat what I'm going to tell you next, because the last thing I want is for any of you to think this story is an SI (self-insert), because trust me, it's not. Sometimes the stuff Dreamer says and does makes me cringe.**

 **But I will admit to using a bit of my own life in creating Syllestra and Dreamer. See, I'm a single mom of a little girl. And I was drawn the possibility of writing a story about a single mom and some of the struggles that go along with that. It was initially my intention for Dreamer to literally be Syllest's mother. I made Syllest seven years old because that seemed like a good age. Somewhat independent enough that Dreamer wouldn't have to be at home babysitting a toddler all the time (my life), but still in need of a family. The problem with this was that if Syllestra was seven years old, I had to think about how old Dreamer would be. If I'm staying true to the Fairy Tail story-line as much as possible, and if Midnight looks like he's maybe 19 years old, I couldn't have Dreamer be much older than that. So that would have meant that she had a kid at like thirteen or something. And that's just a whole other can of worms I'd have to work around.**

 **Though I fought it, and tried to make a way for Syllest to be Dreamer's daughter, it just wasn't happening. It didn't feel right. Then I decided that it made more sense for Syllest to be her sister or niece, and things started to evolve after that. It was a domino effect. It all just fell into place.**

 **Syllestra is an interesting character. In this fic, she symbolizes freedom. If you remember the chapter where Dreamer gave Midnight his "one sweet dream," then you might recall how he could hear Syllestra laughing, but he couldn't see her dancing on the outskirts of his dream. This was a direct metaphor for freedom. Likewise, Midnight cannot grasp what true freedom is. It's always on the outskirts of his vision, beyond reach. It's not just Midnight whom perceives her as freedom, however. She represents freedom to Dreamer, in that Syllestra seems to hold the key to Dreamer letting go of the loss of her sister. She represents freedom to all of Fairy Tail, in that she isn't held down by the family unit, she sees everyone as family. She's free to call Mira her Auntie, Jezran her grandpa, whatever she wants because who can argue with something as free and innocent as that?**

 **She's also a tragic character with a lot of potential. It's clear that she has the same magic as her father, who's a terrifying dark wizard. Naturally, there's the question then of whether or not Syllest will follow in those dark footsteps one day. And it should be implied that her diamond-make magic has potential to be incredibly powerful.**

 **She's basically this anchor that kind of holds everything and everyone together.**

 **And on the surface level, she's also a dorky kid who goes on embarrassing rants and wants to marry Romeo. She's impulsive and hard-headed and a trouble-maker for sure.**


	33. Macbeth

**Chapter 33: Macbeth**

Dreamer blinked up at the ceiling. Origami dragons hung from strings above her hospital bed. A cool breeze from an open window gave the illusion that they were flying, paper wings fluttering above her. She smiled, knowing Piper and Mira must have made them.

 _Piper. Mira._

She tried to sit up but grimaced as pain seemed to burn from somewhere untraceable, in her muscles and joints, skin and chest. She was sore, as if she'd just finished a twenty-four-hour training regime with Erza.

"Oh! Carla, she's awake again!" A high voice called out nervously, barely above a whisper.

"You needn't worry, child," a chiding voice responded. "She is still restrained."

 _Restrained?_

She was suddenly aware of tightness around her forearms and ankles.

There was an uncomfortable ache in her chest. It had really been bad enough that she'd needed to be restrained? She wondered what sorts of things she said and did—or tried to do, while lost in the throes of misery and nightmares. She was glad she couldn't remember. However long she'd been in here felt like nothing more than a long, though perhaps restless, nap.

"It's okay." When Dreamer spoke, her voice was hoarse—throat sore as if she'd been screaming all night. "I'm clearheaded." She blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust to the figures sitting across the room from her.

One was a young teen, with dark-blue hair that hung past her waist. She wore a shoulder-less green dress, and had the biggest brown eyes Dreamer might have ever seen. At her side was a Happy-sized white cat, who's expression was anything _but_ happy.

She recognized them as two of the somewhat newer members of the guild. New as in, Wendy Marvell and her cat Carla whom joined Fairy Tail after the battle at Nirvana. Dreamer hadn't interacted with them much, but then again, she'd been a bit preoccupied with someone else who showed up at Fairy Tail just after Nirvana…

Wendy sighed in relief. She'd been wringing her hands in her lap, on edge as she waited for Dreamer's response. Carla crossed her arms, almost as though she didn't believe that Dreamer was clearheaded at all.

"How are you feeling?" Wendy stood up and walked to the side of the bed. Genuine concern shone in her brown eyes.

"I hurt," she answered honestly.

"Oh no!" Wendy's lip trembled. "I can try to relieve some more of the pain if you'd like." She held up her hands in preparation to cast a spell.

"You will do no such thing!" Carla's demanding voice cut her off. "You've already expelled enough of your magical energy on her today."

Wendy looked uncertainly between the cat and Dreamer. Her desire to help was almost tangible.

Dreamer smiled gently at her. "It's okay. It's bearable."

The blue-haired girl didn't look convinced, but she glanced at Carla once more and then gave a slight nod. She dropped her hands and clasped them back together in front of her.

"If it's okay," Dreamer continued, wincing slightly, "could I have the restraints removed?" She felt the need to adjust her posture, to move some of the stiff, aching muscles in her back.

"Yes, of course!" Wendy immediately set to untying the leather straps that bound her down to the hospital bed. Carla watched in disapproval, little paws crossed over her arms. Once the restraints were removed, Dreamer managed to sit up and lean against the pillow with a heavy sigh.

She felt raw skin and scabs stinging on her arms and sides. She'd likely scratched at herself in a wild fit, which was the reason they had to tie her down. Shame added another layer of pain to her body. "I'm truly sorry you have to see me like this…" She'd cry, but her eyelids felt raw too, tear ducts empty from overexertion.

"It's okay!" Wendy quickly got her a glass of water and straw. "It's… a little bit scary, but… really I just want you to get better."

"Hmph." The white cat narrowed her eyes and watched as Wendy helped Dreamer drink. "Let her apologize. If she were more responsible with her magic, this entire situation could have been contained."

Dreamer pulled away from the straw and looked down at the bed sheet. She knew Carla was right. She glanced back up at Wendy.

"How is everyone? Syllest?"

"I think Juvia is watching her," the girl answered. She fretted around Dreamer, making sure the water cup was within reach, that her sheet wasn't falling off the bed, her eyes darting from Dreamer's scratches, to the pillows supporting her, to the open window—as if she were questioning whether she should treat some of the wounds, fluff a pillow, or close the window.

"Juvia?" Dreamer blinked. She tried to imagine the water-wizard with Syllest but couldn't picture it at all. Plus, why on earthland was Juvia watching her? It seemed like a completely random combination. She was about to ask, but Wendy started to speak.

"She's worried about you, but we haven't let her come in," she added the last part quickly.

Dreamer nodded in approval. "Good." She tried to stretch the aching muscles in her arms. Even small movements were difficult. It would take some time before she had full mobility again. "And Piper? Jezran and Mira?"

"They come in to visit you a lot!" Her small face lit up in a warm smile, made brighter by the morning sunlight filtering in through the blinds. "And they bring presents almost every day." She stepped to the side, revealing a pile stacked to the ceiling of wrapped boxes and a random assortment of treats. Dreamer sweatdropped. "And it's not just them," she continued. "A lot of other Fairy Tail members have come to check on you too. Erza, Natsu, Gray, Lucy, the Thunder Tribe. Nab, Macao and Wakaba. Levy, Kinana…There are so many people who care about you."

She felt a flush touch her cheeks. "R-Really?" She hadn't expected that. That many people had come to visit? It was surprising that so many people even knew she was sick. Geez, it was surprising that many people even knew her. Most could hardly remember her name on a good day.

She'd never been at the guild hall when she was going through one of her episodes. She was always on the Excalibur Estate, locked up and out of sight. She'd never had any idea that so many of her guildmates cared.

"Fairy Tail is really amazing, isn't it?" Wendy said, in awe. Dreamer caught Carla huff and look away, out of the corner of her eye.

She had to agree. Fairy Tail was something special. The selfless kindness of its members was surreal. She closed her eyes and exhaled a long breath as she thought of all their grinning faces. While she was imagining their smiles, a certain smirk crossed her mind.

She swallowed dryly, the flush never leaving her cheeks. "Um… What about…" She wasn't sure why she was suddenly having difficulty finding words. "Have I had any _other_ visitors?"

Wendy cocked her head slightly, not catching on at all.

"No." Carla answered this time. "That assassin hasn't bothered to pay you a visit even once." Her tone was blunt and unforgiving.

Dreamer felt disappointment gather in her stomach. She didn't know what she'd been expecting anyway. Midnight paying her a visit of his own volition? Checking in on her? That was about as likely as Porlyusica saying she loved humans.

"You're better off for it, if you ask me," the cat continued. "Your choice to indulge in the company of that monster is foolish, to say the least."

"Carla!" The girl snapped at her cat and shot Dreamer an apologetic glance.

"Someone has to say it," Carla said, completely unyielding. Her tail was swishing in frustration, causing the ribbon tied to it to loosen slightly. Her pure irritation might be enough to flick the bow to the ground. "By bringing that man into the guild, you've put everyone in danger, including Wendy. That is unacceptable. And if you truly cared about all of your friends as you claim," she gestured at the pile of gifts, "then you would not have put them in danger by bringing a member of the Oracion Seis, of all things! —into our home!"

Dreamer's fingers gathered a handful of the sheet into her palms. She trembled slightly, guilt adding insult to injury.

"Carla, that's enough!"

"Child, you know very well what that man is capable of! You were there on Nirvana as well. Don't placate the woman!"

"I'm not!" Wendy stepped in between Dreamer and Carla, arms outstretched defensively as she faced the white cat. "You're not being fair, Carla!"

The cat's eyes widened, surprised at the young woman standing up to her. Her tail stopped swishing immediately.

"I know Midnight used to be bad, but think about everything he's done since he's been in our guild!" Her tone was passionate. "You didn't even tell her about how he and Piper saved Love and Lucky from disbandment!"

Dreamer blinked. Midnight and Piper _what_? Was she dreaming? Was someone pulling a prank on her? What version of reality was this?

"One good deed does not make up for a lifetime of misdeeds," Carla argued.

"People can change, Carla!" Dreamer could hear the tears catching in her throat. "If Dreamer believes in him, then… I do too! In fact, most of the guild believes in him now, too! So… It's not fair for you to yell at her like that! Please, I know you're worried about me, but don't take it out on other people!"

Carla's eyes softened, some guilt painting her expression. She sighed and lowered her arms, an ear twitching. "…I suppose you are right, child."

Dreamer watched the exchange in awe. Wendy dropped her arms and wiped tears out of her eyes. She looked back at Dreamer with a smile.

"Wendy…" She looked her over. Long blue hair—an innocent face and eyes that showed all the hope in the universe. The faith in this girl's face was powerful enough that it could probably soften the hearts of killers. "I'm envious of you."

"Me?" She blinked, stunned.

"Yeah." She gave a smile in response. "You're so sweet… You can change people's hearts without using magic. The power and hope you have inside of you is real, unlike my charm magic…" She sighed. "It's so fake, the way I manipulate people's feelings. I'm just a fraud."

"That's not true at all!" Wendy took her hands in her own. "You really do make people happy! What about all your friends? They love you because you're _you,_ not because you trick them into caring for you. I think you're a really beautiful person, Dreamer!"

Dreamer gasped slightly, caught in the sincerity of wide brown eyes, and then stifled a giggle. "You see? You're doing it right now."

Wendy blushed. She was about to respond when the door creaked open. Three sets of eyes glanced in that direction.

There was a dull pain in Dreamer's chest as her lungs took in a quick gasp of air.

It was Midnight.

He was in more laid-back attire than usual. No oversized, fur lined coats or scarves, or elbow-length gloves. He wore black jeans, a long-sleeved black and red striped shirt overlaid with a gray halter. A black choker above the dream catcher pendant. His make-up was as dark and thick as always, but there were no beads or braids in his hair, and it looked as though he hadn't straightened it. It was curlier than she'd expected.

His red eyes found hers. His face was carefully guarded, as usual—totally void of expression or reaction. Carla folded her arms and glared at him.

"Shouldn't you be dusting railings?" She snapped, harshly.

"Shouldn't you be choking on a furball?" He said back, casually.

"Well, I never!" Her paws curled into angry fists, eliciting a slight smirk from him.

"Carla!" Wendy scooped the cat up and held her close against her chest. "You're being so grumpy today!"

Dreamer righted herself a bit more on the bed. "Wendy… Carla…. Why don't you guys take a break for a little while?"

"And leave you alone with the assassin?!" Carla said. "I think not!"

Midnight said nothing to persuade or dissuade the choice. He leaned unconcernedly against the door frame, waiting.

"Hey, kitty!" A voice called into the room from the hall. "Quit being so uptight. You can leave the door open and I'll keep an ear out to make sure things don't get out of hand in there."

It was Gajeel.

"Carla, please…" Wendy squeezed her. The cat huffed and wiggled out of her arms. Her wings sprouted and she flew from the room, still showing her clear dislike of the situation. She didn't pass up the opportunity to scowl at Midnight as she flew over his shoulder.

"We'll be back soon," Wendy assured Dreamer. "If you need anything—"

"I'll call," she promised.

The girl nodded with a smile and followed after her pet cat. She left the door cracked open behind Midnight.

"Hey," the iron-slayer called in again, "keep it G-rated in there. There's some things I ain't interested in hearing."

Midnight smirked, which contributed to Dreamer blushing from ear to ear.

"It's not like that!" She yelled in response.

"Whatever you say, Debra."

She sighed and shook her head, losing all energy to argue. An awkward silence settled in the room. Midnight made no effort to come any closer. He stood with his arms crossed, eyes fixated on her.

"You look absolutely pitiful," he said finally—his tone condescending.

"Thanks. That's just what every girl wants to hear." She smiled at him, somehow relaxed by the cruel banter.

He continued to look her over, unashamedly. He paused only for a moment, to glance at the pile of gifts by the window. He made a face at the unnecessary extravagance, then settled his gaze back on Dreamer. She felt exposed under his stare.

"Is it true that you've been working with Piper?" She asked, desperate for anything to fill the space. His silent staring was making her self-conscious.

Nothing.

"Wendy told me you guys saved Love and Lucky from being disbanded? What's that about? That couldn't have been you, right?"

Still nothing.

She nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shuffled a bit deeper into the pillows. She sighed and averted her gaze from his unbreaking stare.

"Why are you here if you don't want to talk?"

Finally, he unfolded his arms and placed his hands on his hips.

"You must have a death wish."

"What?" She blinked uncomprehendingly. Her eyes followed him as he walked in and pulled a chair to sit on. He sat casually, crossing his legs and leaning forward to continue with that penetrating stare.

"Or at least, that's what I thought before." He cocked his head slightly. His smirk was victorious. "But I think I have you figured out now, sweet Dream." The mockery drawled along his light tone.

"Oh?" She fidgeted and covered more of herself up with the sheet, as if to protect herself from those eyes.

"It's not that you want to die," his voice dropped to almost a whisper. "You like to suffer. You enjoy tormenting yourself, almost as much as I enjoy watching you squirm."

" _Mavis_ , stop being so creepy for five minutes," she rolled over, turning her back to him. She could _feel_ him leaning closer to her.

"It's true," he said, quietly. "Pulling me from the wreckage of Nirvana, removing my nightmares and the nightmares of that boy, pushing yourself until you broke…" He was nearly growling. "You're punishing yourself."

She tensed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She heard the chair squeak as he leaned back. "You feel responsible for Resmond killing your sister. You feel like you deserve to suffer because you couldn't save her. And no matter how hard you push yourself or how much pain you endure, it's never enough, because it won't make up for the fact that she's gone, and there's nothing you can do about it."

His words sliced through her like a blade. An unwarranted sob wracked her body. She wept into the blanket, her already sore body shaking painfully.

"What do you want from me?!" She yelled hoarsely. "Did you just come here to make fun of me?! Go away!" His teasing was one thing, but _this_? Mentioning Rosy, bringing up _him_ and what he did, what he took from her… This was cruel.

There were a few minutes of silence as she cried. Every sob made sharp waves of pain sting her chest, but she couldn't stop. Memories of Rosy's smiling face flashed through her mind. Memories of her big sister rocking a sleeping baby in her arms, talking about her dreams of moving to an island and raising Syllestra in the sand. _Of course, you can live with us too, Dreamer!_ Her big sister, who'd raised her, who'd loved her in place of the parents she couldn't remember. Memories of her beautiful eyes, so full of joy and trust, love and hope, and peace.

Memories of her bloodied body, slumped on the living room floor.

"No." Midnight said finally, his word pulling her briefly to reality. "I came to tell you that I understand."

She blinked through tears. He _what?_

There was another period of silence. She could hear only her own heartbeat.

"When you brought me here, I thought you were a fake fairy insect who'd never felt pain." His voice began to tremble. Her shoulders tensed as she listened to the child inside of him coming to the surface, as it did on occasion. "Now I know… You might still be a fairy insect, but you do know suffering. You're _real._ "

"Midnight…" She finally rolled back over to face him. His head was turned, eyes carefully avoiding hers. He dipped his head so that dual-colored hair would hide his eyes as the tears gathered. It wasn't long enough to hide his trembling lips, however.

"You're searching for freedom too." This was a whisper. A revelation.

For an indescribable moment, they cried in silence together.

"Thank you…" She wiped her eyes with her knuckles. "For empathizing with me."

He scowled bitterly. When he lifted his head, and opened his eyes, they were dead-set with determination. He met hers again, the red in his gaze flashing with bloodlust. He gripped the fitted sheet of the hospital bed and leaned close to her again. "I'm going to kill Resmond, slowly. I'll make him suffer the worst nightmare he can imagine, and I'll squeeze the life out of him as painfully as I can. He'll suffer a thousand times the fate of your sister, drowning in his own blood, screaming her name. He'll beg for death, and I won't grant it to him, not until I've extracted every ounce of agony and played it into the night like the sweetest lullaby! His screams will echo in an endless nightmare—they'll chase him to the depths of hell!"

The ravenous excitement in his voice startled her. What exactly had happened since she'd been unconscious? She didn't know whether to be touched by his passionate desire to avenge her sister, or terrified.

"H-Hey…" She reached out and touched the back of his hand. "Calm down." She wished she could use her magic as she looked into his eyes, but she was still too weak. She prayed he would hear her voice instead.

Amazingly, he did. He closed his eyes and breathed out a slow breath. When he opened them, he had regained complete composure, all traces of wild sadism gone. A smirk flittered on his lips. "Do you regret bringing me to your guild yet?"

She smiled weakly at him. "Every day."

This answer seemed to satisfy him. He chuckled, eyes gleaming with amusement. Then gently removed her hand from the back of his and stood up. "Get better," he ordered.

"You…" she thought of the fiery passion in his voice as he talked about putting an end to her pain. She thought of how certain she'd been that he wouldn't dream of coming to check on her. Now, here he was, ordering her to get well. "You really do care, don't you?" Peculiar warmth filled her chest.

"No," he turned his back on her. "I'm bored. It's no fun wandering around this pathetic guild hall without a Dream to torture."

She laughed, which came out as a horrendously girly giggle. "Thank you for coming to see me, Midnight. It really made me happy. More than you know."

He scoffed and headed for the door. "Making you happy is the last thing I care about."

There was a snort from outside the door.

She couldn't stop smiling as she settled back into her bed. He paused at the doorframe, still turned away from her.

"Dreamer," he said quietly.

"What is it, Midnight?"

"Call me Macbeth from now on."

Her heart skipped a beat. "A-Are you sure?"

He walked out the door.

Gajeel was sitting against the opposite wall of the hallway, grinning. " _Call me Macbeth_ ," he mocked Midnight's voice as the dark mage walked past him. "Bet you think you're _so_ cool."

Midnight shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking. But the collar of Gajeel's shirt tightened harshly around his neck without warning. Undaunted, the iron dragon slayer just laughed.

"That's it?" Gajeel called after him. "I thought I was about to hear a good show! I brought popcorn and everything. You could have at least made out with her!"

Gajeel's own fist collided with his jaw. Midnight's finger twitched.

"Make me hit myself again and I'm gonna shove a metal rod through your teeth!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You wanna fight? Come use your hands like a man!"

"My, my, Gajeel. If you want me to touch you, you could just ask."

"Gihi…" Their voices began to fade. "Hey, do I get to call you Macbeth now, too? Or is Donald the only special one?"

Dreamer overheard the conversation through the open door and pulled her sheet over her head, cheeks burning.

 _Stop grinning like an idiot_ … she thought to herself. _Don't forget his monologue about making someone suffer a horrific death._

No, not _someone_. Resmond did not qualify as a human being.

"Macbeth…" she said his name out loud, feeling it flow off her tongue, remembering when he'd threatened her into using his pseudonym. Something had changed since then. Something that made her feel feverishly hot and giggly.

She sort of hoped Wendy and Carla would come back soon to check her temperature.

* * *

 **A/N: Cheezy, I'm amused at how badly you want that Piper filler. xD Unfortunately, I had planned for it to be released as one of the post-fic fluff chapters, since it really has no place in the story-line, and it's written entirely from first-person Piper's point of view. It would be really out of place if I just threw it in randomly somewhere. As for Syllestra learning the truth about her relationship with Dreamer... Well, I can't tell you all of my secrets, can I? ;)  
**

 **Simana, actually, I do write my own original stories. I have one that is being edited for publishing, believe it or not. I took a break from it temporarily to work on this fic, because I wanted to see what total strangers thought of my writing abilities before I tried to push something out into the world.**

 **Development Section**

 **Alright, I've done the development of Team Derelict Heart as well as Syllestra. I'm not going to talk about Resmond for now. You know all you need to know about him for the time being. I will say that he's potentially the most difficult villain I have ever created.**

 **It's easier to talk about his henchmen, Giseld and Jacque. Creating opponents in this story was irritating. I really wanted to utilize characters from the anime if at all possible. (I'm leery about filling the story with so many OC's that the original characters become irrelevant). But that just wasn't feasible with Resmond's underlings, in part because the cast of small-time villains to choose from in the anime, that are around before Tenrou island, is a small pool to choose from; and I can't tear a villain away from whatever guild or person they already have fealty toward. So, I had to create Resmond's henchmen from scratch. Jacque was easy. Lowest tier coward villain who only serves Resmond to stay alive. Giseld, on the other hand, was a bit tougher. It wasn't hard to create an "obsessive girlfriend of the villain" type, it was her magic that was giving me hang ups. I was cautious about using snake magic because dammit there's enough of that to go around in anime. It's not unique or exciting. But, first off, I couldn't get the image of Midnight lifting his pant leg to reveal a hooker boot with snake fangs in it out of my head, and second, it makes her the ideal opponent for... someone else, later on.**

 **There is only one more major OC I will introduce in this fic, and that OC is also one of Resmond's underlings. I'm eager to introduce that one, because I am as proud as the development of them as I am of Piper, tbh. Hopefully that OC will make an impact on you as well.**

 **But for now, enjoy the story! You're due for a filler in a couple of chapters! Let me know your thoughts on everything so far, and thank you for your continued support!**


	34. One Word

**A/N: Okay, guys, I've had many requests to start posting twice a week. I was really hesitant about this at first because I was afraid of running out of material. However, I only have one more chapter left to write of this fic, so I think I can afford to publish twice a week for you from now on. :) You guys are the best!**

* * *

 **Chapter 34: One Word**

Romeo stopped running. He crouched, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. He looked frantically behind him for the pursuer. She could be anywhere… Behind that bush, around that corner, under that table, in that tree! Waiting to pounce like some kind of wild animal.

The air was quiet. Too quiet.

"Hey, Romeo."

"GAH!" The child screamed and fell back on the seat of his pants, scrambling away from the voice. Relief washed over him when he looked up and did _not_ see pink eyes staring at him. "Oh, it's just you."

"Wow, son. I'm hurt." Macao crouched in front of him and gave a knowing smile. "Syllestra, huh?"

Romeo gulped loudly and checked their surroundings again. "Dad, she came to school in a wedding dress!" He was absolutely mortified.

Macao laughed out loud and roughly patted his son on the back. "Juvia's really getting into her head, huh?"

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" He pulled his knees to his chest and rocked for a moment. "It's weird. I don't like it." He pouted, a blush touching his boyish cheeks. "My friends keep making fun of me… _Everyone_ keeps making fun of me."

"Listen, son…" The older man sighed and picked Romeo up so that he was standing. "First off. Don't worry about what everyone else thinks. We're all a bunch of old fogies who don't know anything about… well anything, honestly." He laughed at his own joke. "What you _do_ need to worry about is how you feel about Syllest. Don't end up like Gray—just be straightforward with her."

Romeo's cheeks retained their color and he avoided his father's eyes.

"Speak of the angel…" Macao's lip twitched in a smirk and he looked over Romeo's head.

"Huh? Wh-NO!" Romeo ducked behind his dad's legs at the sight of Syllest skipping down the road with a bouquet of roses in her hand, still wearing a perfectly tailored little wedding dress.

"Later, Son!" Macao suddenly seemed to vanish, walking in the opposite direction.

"SOME HELP YOU ARE, DAD!"

"Hey, I gave you fatherly advice, didn't I?" He waved passively, then he was gone.

Romeo's muscles tensed as he prepared to run again. Instead, he remained rooted to the spot, sweating and swallowing lumps in his throat. Like an unoiled robot, he turned to face his attacker.

"Romeo! There you are!" She caught up, somehow not breathless in the slightest. She took a deep breath and puffed her chest out, chin held high, a look of fierce determination in her pink eyes. "Romeo Conbolt, I order you to marry me! Right now!"

He stumbled backwards, like her words had a physical effect on him. "Syllest, uh, I…"

"Just say yes!" She shouted. Her little hands smacked onto her hips—indignation clear.

"But, I—I'm not…"

"Look! I made us cute rings with my magic, too!" She frantically pulled a couple of rings out of the bouquet of roses. "They're made from diamond so they won't ever break! I guess I'll have to make new ones when we get older though because our hands probably won't be the same size forever… But that's okay! I can make as many as we need, just as long as—"

"Syllest, I don't like you!"

A crow cawed overhead. Evening hues cloaked the young pair in an orange blanket, suddenly dulling the vibrancy of Syllestra's pink eyes. Tears sprung and rolled down her cheeks.

"Y-You… don't?"

Romeo's cheeks flushed and he jerked around, awkwardly, still fighting the instinct to run. "I-I mean… I like you, cuz you're my friend, but I don't… _like_ like you!"

"Oh…" Her head and shoulders slumped. The bouquet of roses flopped on the pavement.

"Syllest, you… You're acting crazy!" He flailed his arms. "We can't get married, we're kids! Where are we even gonna live? With your mom or my dad?"

She blinked as if she hadn't even thought about it.

"And I'm not even an official Fairy Tail member yet so how would I make money for us?"

"I guess you're right…" She stared at his shoes.

"S-Syllest…" He threw his arms around her suddenly, pulling her in for a hug. "I don't like you acting like this! I want my best friend back!"

Her tears rolled onto his shirt. "Best friend?"

"Yeah!" He pulled back and looked at her with a cheeky smile. "I want to catch toads with you in the forest again, because all the other boys are too scared! And I want to make a mud castle by the river when it rains! And I want you to help me practice my magic so I can be strong like Natsu and you can be tough like Erza, just like you want, right?"

She stared wide-eyed at him, her delicate cheeks taking on a pink shade as well. Slowly, she began to nod. "Yeah! I want to be the best Fairy Tail wizard there ever was!"

"You'll have to beat me!" He laughed and pumped his fist. "Let's be friends again and get stronger together, so we can protect Fairy Tail too!"

"Okay!" She giggled loudly and tossed the rings she'd been holding on the ground like nothing but trinkets. "Being friends is better anyways! Wedding dresses are itchy!"

"And you look stupid," he said honestly.

"You look stupider," she stuck her tongue out at him. Then she cocked her head in thought. "Do you think Eddie would marry me instead? I like his hat. And he called me cute yesterday in class, so maybe—"

"No way!" Romeo cut her off. "You can't just go marry someone else cuz I said no!"

"But—"

"We _are_ gonna get married someday!"

"W-We are?" She blinked.

"Well, yeah!" He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You said you don't _like_ like me."

"Duh," he rolled his eyes. "You're a _girl_. You have cooties. But when we're older and stronger—"

"Like Natsu and Erza?"

"Yeah! Then I'll _like_ like you and we can get married! So you're not allowed to marry Eddie, okay?"

"Okay!" The logic made sense to both children. They nodded their heads in agreement before Syllest began to skip toward the guild hall and Romeo raced to catch up.

"Hey Romeo, I think my mom _like_ likes Macbeth," she giggled quietly.

"Ew," he shuddered.

"If they get married, will that make him my dad?" Her eyes bugged out, mind blown. "Oooh, maybe she'll let me make her wedding ring! And I can be the flower girl and you can be the ring boy and they'll kiss—bleh, I don't want to see them kiss!"

"Do you think he'd take off his lipstick first?"

"THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO KNOW!"

Their hyper voices drifted away on the cool dusky breeze.

/

Behind a bush, watching them walk away, was a weepy eyed Juvia.

"I'm such a failure!" She wept into her hands dramatically. "My dear, sweet child has abandoned everything I taught her about romance! Even casting aside the bouquet of roses she was meant to give to her beloved! Is this what they call rebellion? Have I failed as a mother? Surely I did not teach her to accept friendship instead of love! She should have kept trying! Eventually her efforts would have paid off and she would be walking hand in hand with her beloved into the sunset!" She imagined herself and Gray instead of Romeo and Syllest.

"What are you doing out here, Juvia?" The ice-maker's voice shocked her to her feet, a twig sticking out of her hair.

"Oh my darling Gray!" She threw her arms around him and wept into his chest. He jerked back in surprise.

"I thought that I would make a wonderful mother, but perhaps I'm not cut out for parenting after all!"

"Relax," he squirmed away from her. "You did fine. I mean you fed her and put her to bed on time, right? That's all there is to it."

"Gray…" She stared at him with eye brimming with emotion. "You'll make such a wonderful father to our children one day!" She squeezed him harder.

"Wait a second! Who said anything about 'us' and 'our?' Let me go, Juvia!"

"My sweet, darling Gray!"

* * *

Makarov sat on his desk with his legs crossed and eyes closed, a grim expression on his face. A clock ticked incessantly in the background. In front of him sat a blue-haired gambling wizard, emerald eyes uncertain.

"Piper…" The master's voice was serious. He didn't open his eyes when he spoke, thought creasing his brows further than age already had. "I need your honest opinion on this."

Piper scratched his goatee and trained his eyes carefully on the strings of his boot. His jaw clenched. "Gramps, I ain't the right guy to make a choice like this. You's oughta ask Dreamy."

"That is out of the question," came the stern reply. "She has clear bias on the matter at hand."

 _Tick. Tock._

"I gots bias too, gramps! I mean, I hates the guy!" He thought of his roommate. That mocking smirk ever-present on his twisted face. The eerie sense he felt around him, that came from the dark power of his magic. He thought about how the bastard always took over an hour in the bathroom and left it smelling like Master Bob's suite at Blue Pegasus' guild hall—and the damn black curls that got clogged in the shower drain—and that guy could snore louder than a bear! Plus, he was pretty sure he'd drank some of Piper's milk right out of the jug, even though it was clearly labeled "Piper's: Touch it and I'll murder you."

More than that, though, he thought about the way the wizard's blood red eyes followed after Dreamer whenever she was near. The way they would narrow—gleam with sinister intent—something predatory. He thought about the way he slunk around the guild hall like a black cat, stalking her—watching her. And worst of all… The way she watched him right back.

"That may be true." Makarov opened his eyes. "But I know that you're not the type to allow your emotions to inhibit the most logical choice. Beyond that, you are the only one who lives with him and has seen him in close combat. You may very well know his behaviors more than anyone else."

"You's gots too much faith in me, old man…" He sighed and looked at the black Fairy Tail emblem he wore on his forearm. He'd spent a lot of time lately wondering what it really meant to wear that symbol—what it really meant to be a part of this guild. The traits of a Fairy Tail wizard.

"What's your verdict, Piper?" The master prodded again. "Don't forget, the Magic Council is intent on punishing us if we continue to harbor him."

"Yeah, I know…" He picked at a nail.

 _Tick. Tock. Tick._

Dreamer… She hadn't fully recovered yet, but she'd been coming out of the room to eat and exercise. He loved everything about her… The way her cream-colored hair fluttered above her shoulder blades, her long neck and petite shoulders. _Mavis_ , her smile. It lit up the room brighter than sunlight. It sparkled in her eyes, the infinite pink petals floating in a sea of hope. Her skin a field, softer than anything he'd ever touched and more delicate than porcelain. Her scent like the summer sky—like a cool breeze—like freedom.

He loved her. But he was no fool. She didn't love him back—and lately those infinite eyes and that sunlight smile shone for someone else. A darkness that could easily eclipse her, if only she could see the danger…

Piper hated him.

 _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

This choice could mean the end of it. That bastard could be gone for good, locked up in a cell where he belonged, far away from Dreamy and Syllest and the hopes and dreams Piper had cultivated over the past three years. Piper just had to say the word. One word and it would be all over. He'd have his girl back.

He thought of her blushing cheeks. He could have sworn they once colored because of him, but when he thought back… He knew she'd never looked at him in exactly the same way she looked at Midnight. It made something vile rise in his throat—an emptiness, a bitterness, a wicked beast with a thirsty stomach desperate for the burn of alcohol—the fire that would consume the pain.

With trembling fists, eyes trained on bootstrings…

 _Tick..._

"Yes."

Makarov's eyes widened. "Are you sure? I will make my choice based on your answer."

Piper met his master's eyes evenly. The emeralds were hard. Resolute. "Yes." Stone-like voice. "Do it."

Makarov sighed deeply and nodded his head as the clock ticked in the background.

"It will be done."


	35. Goodbye, Midnight

**Chapter 35: Goodbye, Midnight**

The infirmary was beginning to look like the setting for a Christmas party with all the multicolored gifts and gift bags that were now piled up all over the floor and three hospital beds. The ceiling now hung with hundreds of origami dragons (and one poorly drawn red dragon that was meant to depict Igneel, according to Natsu). Dreamer was currently snuggled up with a pink quilt that several guild women had worked together to make. Each patch was done by a different person, and it wasn't too hard to guess who'd done what. One patch had a picture of a book—probably Levy's work, another was littered in hearts—likely Mira's artistry, some stars and a get-well poem—Lucy for sure, and some kind of ancient crest that supposedly read "courage"—definitely Erza. The table next to her was stacked with little mustard sandwiches, courtesy of Jezran, and a music lacrima was playing some weird music that Gajeel swore up and down Dreamer would love (she wasn't so sure. Most of it sounded like people banging pots while someone played the saxophone, but it's the thought that counts).

The door squeaked open and Mira walked in. She waved happily at her. "Hi, Dreamer! How are you feeling?"

The blue-eyed transformation wizard sat down on the edge of her bed. Dreamer sat up and threw her arms around her in a warm embrace. "I'm feeling so much better, Mira." And it was all thanks to the unending love and support she had here at Fairy Tail. "Wendy and Master say I can probably start sleeping at home tomorrow night. They're only keeping me here this long because my magic energy is struggling to refill completely."

"Yay! We can sit together on the couch and drink tea!" Mirajane clapped her hands in excitement. "And I can tell you all about my new favorite ship!"

"Oh no… Do I even want to know?" She cringed at the girly excitement positively exuding from Mirajane.

"Grayza!" She squeaked. "Oh, Dreamer, they're so perfect for each other!"

She laughed out loud. She hadn't been expecting that one, that was for sure. "I thought you liked Gruvia."

"I did." Mira nodded seriously while stretching out on Dreamer's lap. "But Gray and Erza have so much more natural chemistry!"

"Has Erza heard you say this?"

Blue eyes blinked up innocently at her. "No. I should tell her shouldn't I?"

" _No!_ No, no! I think you should keep this pairing preference to yourself." _If you want to live._

Mira giggled and bopped Dreamer on the nose. She responded by pinching Mira's side, causing the other girl to screech in panicked laughter.

"Dreamer, stop! I'm ticklish!" Mira smacked her in the face with a pillow.

"I know you are, that's why I did it."

It felt so good to be acting normal again. How long had it been since she and Mirajane had gotten to talk and play together? It had been since before Dreamer's trip to the wreckage of Nirvana… That choice had changed everything.

"Oh!" Mira sat up suddenly, as if she'd remembered something. "I came here to tell you something!"

"What is it?" She blinked curiously at the other girl.

"Well…" Mira suddenly averted her gaze and began to rub her hands together nervously. "Master is making an announcement today."

"An announcement?"

"Mhm." She traced a star on Dreamer's quilt, absentmindedly. "It's about Midnight."

Something jerked in her stomach and her mouth felt dry. "What about Midnight?"

"Honestly, I'm not really sure." Mira looked at her apologetically. "All I really know is that the Magic Council approached Master while you've been sick."

This was the first Dreamer had heard of it. She felt her back go slightly rigid.

"They know that we're keeping Midnight here…" She sighed, sadly. "So, of course, they're demanding that we turn him in."

This wasn't surprising. It was always only a matter of time before the council found out indisputably that Midnight really was at Fairy Tail. A change of clothes and the occasional covering of his guild mark wasn't enough to disguise him. Particularly not when there weren't any other wizards out there who used both illusion and reflector magic.

"I think Master has decided what he's going to do with him." Mira met her eyes. "I don't know what he's planning. I don't think Master will turn him in, but… I think there's a good chance he's going to ask Midnight to leave the guild."

Dreamer felt strangely like she was suddenly encased in Gray's ice. The room felt cold and her body solid. Even her heart seemed to freeze.

Of course Master would ask him to leave. It was the only logical choice. He had to protect his children, and Midnight wasn't one of them. Even after all the jobs she'd been on with him, the way he protected Syllest in Rose Garden, the remorse he poured out at the feet of that little boy in the graveyard… It didn't matter. The magic council was after him—and they'd completely disband Fairy Tail if Master refused to turn him in.

"When is he making the announcement?" she asked quietly.

"Right now," Mira answered, sheepishly.

"Right _NOW_?! Mirajane!" Dreamer threw the quilt off and stood up. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?!"

"I forgot." She giggled. But then the oceans in her eyes turned sad. "And you just got better… I don't want you to get worked up if Master…" she trailed off. When she looked at Dreamer again, there were tears in her eyes. "I love you, Dreamer. I don't want you to hurt anymore."

Dreamer's heart gave a strong twinge. She threw her arms around Mira once more, squeezing her with all her might. "You're my best friend, Mira."

The other woman wept into her hair. "If you keep getting hurt, I'm going to kill you," she promised. Dreamer believed her one hundred percent.

"Come with me." She grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door, desperate to hear what the Master had to say.

"Dreamer, wait!" Mira yanked her back.

"What?"

"You can't go out there in your underwear, silly!"

She looked down at her scantily clad body, having forgotten that she'd made herself very at home in her hospital bed. Her cheeks flushed.

"Oooh! You can wear the outfit I bought you!" Mira squealed in excitement and dug through a mountain of presents before retrieving a pink box. In a matter of moments, she'd completely stripped and redressed Dreamer, without so much as a word of permission from the emotion mage. "Tada! You look so cute!"

"Cute?" She looked distastefully at the short skirt and cleavage-revealing tank. "This looks like something Lucy would wear."

"No way! Lucy doesn't wear frills!" Mira giggled and fluttered her hand along the lacy edges of the pink skirt.

"And what's with the red bow? It doesn't even match." She tugged on the uncomfortable bow that was tied around her neck like a choker.

"Keep. It. On." Mira's voice took on a she-devil quality, making Dreamer's hand instantly drop. She grinned cheerily. "It matches Midnight's eyes!"

Her cheeks heated. "W-Why do I need a bow that matches his eyes?!"

"You guys are a couple, right?" Mira blinked like she was totally surprised.

"What?! Mira, no! Wouldn't I have told you if that happened?! Where did you get that crazy idea anyway?!"

She looked dejected. "Why do my ships never work out…?"

"Oh my god, come on, Mira. By the time we get out there, Master will be done talking and Midnight will be long gone." The icy feeling splintered in her chest at the words, but she ignored it, dragging Mira along with her.

* * *

Master was already standing on the stage, with many guild members propped up to listen to his announcement in the audience. He cleared his throat.

"Listen up!" Voice booming with the backed power of his magical energy. "There's something I need to discuss with all of you, and it concerns a particular dark wizard who was escorted to our guild not long ago."

Midnight was already there, sitting at a table directly in front of the master. His expression was carefully guarded—posture indicating false boredom. Dreamer could tell, even at this distance, by the occasionally twitch of his lips, that he was on edge. He must have known what was coming.

"Midnight." Makarov addressed him now. "First and foremost, I would like to thank you for the services you have provided to Fairy Tail." His eyes were serious, hands behind his back. "In the time you have resided here, you have proven to be invaluable to us. You've assisted my children on a number of jobs, and while half of those ended horribly with you traumatizing citizens of Magnolia," his eyebrow twitched, "the other half proved your willingness to serve others."

Midnight stared silently at him, purposely refusing to turn his gaze to the guild members, who were all looking him over, mumbling, nodding in agreement or shaking their heads.

Dreamer fought the urge to be at his side. She knew this was between him and Fairy Tail. Instead, she clutched her hands over her heart and allowed Mira to put a comforting arm around her waist.

"Recently, you have begun to loyally serve the guild by baking for us, cleaning, and has anyone seen the gardens lately?" He chuckled.

"Wait, _Midnight_ did all of that?" Max asked from the audience.

"So that's why it looks like the floor was mopped for the first time in months. I thought I'd be walking over that beer stain forever." Someone added.

"I figured we hired a gardener!"

Midnight didn't move at all. He was still as a statue, eyes locked on Makarov. The only indication that he was paying attention was the way the corner of his lip turned down slightly at the praise, as if he'd never imagined in his life he'd be praised by fairies.

"More importantly, you protected some of my children of your own free will, which is a deed I will never be able to repay you for." Makarov glanced at Dreamer, as if he knew she'd been standing there all along. "And, had it not been for your willingness to look past your differences with Piper, the two of you would not have saved Love and Lucky from certain financial ruin and loss of reputation—possibly even disbandment. The point being, dear boy, whether you like it or not, you have done good for Fairy Tail—and I personally believe you have also done good for yourself."

Dreamer looked around the guild at all the nodding heads. Words of encouragement filled the air, even some claps and smiles. She couldn't believe it. It hardly seemed like any time had passed since the entire guild hated him and resented her for bringing him here. She could still remember when Natsu and Erza had nearly attacked him and she'd had to intervene. Now, the fire dragon-slayer was giving Midnight a fang-toothed grin, while Erza nodded in approval with a fork in her hand, sporting a piece of one of Midnight's cakes. It was almost too much for Dreamer to bear. In a hospital in Clover town, she saw in this man a potential for good. Now, her friends and guild mates saw it too…

Tears gathered in her eyes.

"That being said." Makarov gave a long sigh and silence weighed on the room. "I feel it necessary to inform all of you that the Magic Council has issued an official statement, ordering that we release Midnight of Oracion Seis into their custody immediately." Murmuring and grim faces. "They have made it clear that if we do not surrender him, Fairy Tail will face great consequences. At the very least, they will send an enforcement unit to forcefully remove you from the property," he addressed Midnight. "We may even face temporary banning from guild activities—a probation of sorts. At worst, we will be kicked from the alliance of legal magical guilds and labeled as independent."

The murmuring increased. Midnight's head bowed, finally giving under the weight of this information. His eyes closed. Hands trembled, barely noticeable.

"But we ain't turning him in, right?" Gajeel spoke up, gritting his teeth.

"Yeah!" Natsu agreed vehemently. "I mean, you just said he did all these great things and now you're talking about sending him to prison?! That's not cool, gramps!"

Nods and sounds of agreement from the crowd.

"No, it certainly would be against everything Fairy Tail stands for to send this man into a life of imprisonment." Makarov agreed, gravely. "That seems to leave us with only one option."

Silence settled again.

Midnight stood, somehow managing to remain proud and tall. He tossed some hair over his shoulder and turned his back on Makarov. "I never planned on staying anyway," he said, with a scoff.

The ice in Dreamer's heart shattered at this sight. She knew he was playing tough. She could see—she could _feel_ his fear. Fear of being alone, being abandoned by these people who had provided for him despite his long list of sins. But he was too proud to show his panic. It would be easier on everyone if he walked out still looking like a monster.

"At least it's been entertaining." He waved and started to walk.

"Wait just a moment, young man." Makarov's voice was a harsh demand. Midnight stopped in his tracks, wincing slightly. "You see, the Council has made it very clear that Midnight of the Oracion Seis is no longer permitted to stay here. However…" His wrinkled face lit up in a devious smile. "No one ever said anything about Macbeth of Fairy Tail."

Midnight released an audible gasp, pupils retracting and jaw dropping slightly. Surprised faces filled the room.

Dreamer clasped her hands over her mouth and gave a small cry, tears now rolling freely down her face.

Mira squeezed her tightly.

"Oh, Master, you're so sneaky!" She giggled.

"The choice is still yours, of course," Makarov continued. "But as Master of this guild, I would like to formally invite you, Macbeth, to join the ranks of our members. As one of my children, I will not allow those pompous geezers on the Magic Council to lay a hand on you. So, what will it be?"

His fists were clenched, head lowered. Black hair shadowed his face, but tears sparkled as they fell to the floorboards. His shoulders shook violently. He put his face in his hands.

"Macbeth," Dreamer started for him but Mira clasped her hand.

"He has to make this choice on his own," she said with a warm smile at her friend.

Dreamer gasped but nodded, resolutely. She prayed he would stay.

"You… You want _me_ to join Fairy Tail?" His voice was a high cry, emotion cracking his words.

"Yes." Makarov said plainly. "And I would venture a guess that everyone in this room shares that sentiment. Children?"

No one answered at first. Their faces flickered with confusion and surprise. They mumbled under their breaths.

Finally… Slowly… A man stood up near the back. He lifted a hand into the air, pointer finger raised, thumb extended… The universal sign of Fairy Tail. His emerald eyes met Midnight's, speaking something words could never express.

Piper's expression was hard, but he held the Fairy Tail sign high and proud. And as Midnight stared at him in utter disbelief, he gave the slightest nod. Then, not breaking the gaze he shared with the rival wizard, he uttered the same word he had said in Makarov's office not long ago. The one word that sealed the Master's choice to invite Midnight into their guild…

"Yes." His jaw clenched, but those emerald eyes were unwavering.

Chairs scraped the ground as one-by-one, everyone in the room stood and lifted their hands. Dozens of determined faces—countless fingers posed in the sign of Fairy Tail. All eyes glimmered with tears, with passion.

Midnight couldn't take it. He fell to his knees and sobbed. A broken, unaccepted child, feeling the arms of love and support for the first real time.

"Zero told me I was… strong…" he wept. "But you… you taught me that I'm pathetic. I'm weak…" He met Erza's eyes. She was smiling encouragingly at him. He broke into heavier sobs. "I… I want to be strong, like you. Like all of you…"

She couldn't take it anymore. Dreamer ran to his side and fell to her knees, throwing her arms around him. He clung to her, tears wetting her shirt. "You are strong, Macbeth," she whispered. "You always have been."

"Yes," he whimpered. Then louder. "Yes. I'll join you."

The room erupted in wild cheers. A dog pile of people pounced on him and Dreamer.

"Welcome to Fairy Tail, Macbeth!"

"Suck it, Magic Council!"

After everyone had successfully squeezed the life out of him, Midnight… No, _Macbeth_ , stood and turned back to the master. He wiped tears from his cheeks and stood proudly. Makarov gestured for him and he walked onto the stage and faced everyone.

"Dreamer, will you do the honors?" Makarov held out the stamp that would mark Macbeth with their symbol. She nodded, grinning ear to ear, and joined him on stage.

Macbeth looked at Makarov. "I have one request."

"What is it, my boy?" Makarov raised an eyebrow.

"Please… Let me keep my Oracion Seis mark." His red eyes were serious. "They were my first friends."

Makarov gave a knowing smile. "Very well. I will allow it, this once. Remove your coat and Dreamer will mark your opposite shoulder."

He obeyed, casting the coat to the ground. Dreamer held the stamp with trembling fingers. She met his eyes, which were still wet with tears. She saw in them the innocent child, laying on the floor in the Tower of Heaven. But, she also saw hope.

"What color do you want? Black?" She whispered, voice cracking with her own tears.

He smirked, still retaining his snarky attitude even now. "Pink."

Her cheeks took some color. There were a few chuckles from the crowd.

"I'm serious." His eyes never left hers for a moment.

"H-How about we compromise and do like a fuchsia?"

"Whatever you want, sweet Dream."

Her blush deepened and she held her breath while she applied the glowing Fairy Tail mark to his shoulder. At last, it was done. He gazed smugly at the guild hall. "I guess I'm a fairy rat now, too."

"We're not too bad for rats, are we?" She giggled and leaned against his arm.

"Hmph."

Makarov stepped off the stage and crossed the room to where Piper was standing. The dice wizard's face was full of conflicting emotion as he watched Midnight and Dreamer onstage. Joy. Heartache.

"Piper," Makarov stood beside him.

"What is it, gramps?"

"I wanted to commend you," Makarov nodded at him. "You chose the right path, despite the conflict of your heart."

Piper blushed, his eyes still focused on _her._ "Geez, gramps… I couldn't send him away. I couldn't do that to her."

"I know." Makarov clasped his hand with his own wrinkled palms. "You have grown, young man. Not long ago, you had no faith in your team mate's choices. Now, you have enough respect for them to even go against your instincts. I am proud of you, my son."

Piper's eyes went wide with shock when he realized the master was right. He wiped a stray tear away. "Ah, shut up old man. Bad asses ain't supposed ta cry, you's know."

He looked at Makarov and was stunned to see the old man's face was contorted, tears and snot flowing freely down it.

"Gramps! Wha—Not you too!" Piper flailed his arms dramatically.

"It's just… so… beautiful… All of my children have grown so much. And I have so many new children lately, to care for… I can't take it!" He rolled dramatically on the floor.

"Hey!" Cana's voice called over the crowd. "I think this is cause for celebration!"

"WOOHOO, PARTY!"

Cheers filled the room and alcohol began to slosh.

Dreamer and Macbeth still stood onstage as the party unfolded before their eyes. She continued to lean against his shoulder, feeling more lighthearted and free than she had in a long time. The ice in her chest had completely melted, to be replaced with what felt like her own personal, glowing sun.

"I can't believe you're one of us now."

He didn't respond. She glanced up at him and frowned, forehead pulsing.

He was drooling.

"HOW CAN YOU BE SLEEPING RIGHT NOW?"

His head bobbed to the side, against her shoulder. He mumbled incoherently and nestled his face against her cleavage, hugging her like a stuffed bear. She blushed fiercely.

"Fairy or not, _some_ things never change." She sighed but then laughed. Laughed for the joy and irony of it all.

Who would have ever thought? Midnight of the Oracion Seis was gone, but a new life had begun for Macbeth of Fairy Tail.


	36. Everyone Needs a Kitty Cat!

**A/N: FILLER! This chapter is purely for entertainment purposes. You can skip over it and miss nothing from the main plot line. However, if you want some laughs and Middream fluff, then by all means read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter 36: Everyone Needs a Kitty Cat!**

Dreamer was stunned when Mirajane came bursting in through her bedroom door with tears running down her face, and a massive white-toothed smile.

"There's someone I want you to meet," she had said, as she forcefully tugged Dreamer to the living room, where sitting on the couch was a girl who looked just like Mira, but smaller and with short hair. "This is Lisanna. She's alive, Dreamer. She's home!"

After a tearful and admittedly confusing reunion, the two girls sat Dreamer down and told her all about how a group of Fairy Tail wizards had traveled to an alternate dimension called Edolas, and saved Earthland from total magical destruction. Apparently, Dreamer couldn't remember any of it because she'd been trapped in a giant lacrima with the rest of Fairy Tail. Oh, and on top of that, Happy and Carla were things called Exceeds, which originated from said alternate dimension. And on top of _that_ , Mystogan was actually a prince of the alternate dimension.

" _Mystogan_ is a prince?" Dreamer spilled her tea for exactly the fifth time during the conversation.

"Well, actually, he's the king now," Lisanna corrected.

"Oh, Dreamer!" Mira reached in between her breasts and pulled out an entire envelope and a velvet box. "That reminds me! He gave this to Lucy to give to you!"

Dreamer blanched and eyed the envelope with something close to terror. She gingerly reached out and took the proffered items.

"Well?! Aren't you going to open them?!" Mira squealed in delight, clasping her hands together.

"Uh… I'd rather not." She swallowed nervously after glancing at the official looking wax stamp on the envelope.

"Come on, Dreamer!" Mira prodded. "We'll probably never see anyone from Edolas again. Don't you want to see what his last words to you were?"

"I don't get it," Lisanna whispered. "She knew Prince Jellal?"

"They were dating," Mira said, matter-of-factly.

"FOR THE THOUSANDTH TIME, WE WERE NEVER DATING!" Dreamer's eyebrow twitched.

"Whatever you say, Dreamer!" Mira giggled. "She doesn't like to talk about it," she whispered to her little sister.

"I can still hear you, you know." Dreamer groaned. She closed one eye and tore the envelope open with gritted teeth. Inside was a note written on golden parchment, with curly letters and perfect penmanship that could only belong to Mystogan. "Alright, might as well get this over with…"

 _Dearest Dreamer,_

She face-palmed before continuing.

 _I have a feeling that my time in Earthland is almost up. Sadly, there will soon come a day when I will be separated from this world and its inhabitants; and I will be apart from you._

"Read it out loud!"

"Not on your life!"

 _Now, since these may be my last words to you, I wish to apologize for my deception. You see, Dreamer… I knew you used your charm magic on me the first day we met. In fact, all the times following, I was only pretending to be under your spell. It was a good effort on your part, though._

Dreamer's eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed pink. _HE KNEW?!_

 _I am aware you were only using my company for the sake of receiving sleeping pills from me, but I am not cross with you. I will admit that it was nice to occasionally have someone to talk to, even if the basis of our friendship was built on deception. Therefore, I continued to pretend to be under your spell. I knew you would not tell anyone about our secret meetings and picnics in the woods, because of the fear of revealing your use of illegal charm magic on me. It was a convenient excuse for me to be close to someone in Earthland. I consider our friendship genuine, even if we were both lying to one another._

She cleared her throat, as tears started to build up.

 _Dearest Dreamer, I must now confess another truth…_

"Oh, Mavis…" Dreamer sweat-dropped as she continued to read, her face heating more and more with every sentence.

"Ooooooh, it's a love letter," Mira elbowed Lisanna in the ribs.

… _and as sunlight faded into hues of pink, I was reminded each twilight of the magic circles in your endless eyes, and when I rested my head upon a pillow each night in your world, I closed my eyes and imagined…_

Dreamer swallowed nervously and flipped the page over to reveal three more pages of similar content. She skimmed it over, with violet cheeks.

… _what I would give to wrap my arms around you, to pull you against my chest and whisk you away, into my world. To serve you platters of mustard slathered white-bread, as you recline in my chair, garbed only in…_

She quickly went to the last page.

… _and now you know the truth. I leave you with one last gift. You will find enclosed in that box one last bottle of sleeping pills. I hope they will be enough for you, and that you will not find yourself in battle enough times to use them all in this lifetime. Please, stay safe, dearest Dreamer. You will forever be in my thoughts and in my heart._

She opened the velvet box and pocketed the bottle of pills. Then looked at the letter once more.

 _With Love,_

 _Mystogan_

"Hey, Mira. Do you know where Natsu is?"

"Hm? He's probably at the guild hall, why?"

"I need him to burn this."

* * *

It was strange. It wasn't as if anything had really changed since Macbeth officially joined Fairy Tail. Really, the only physical difference was the fuchsia colored guild mark on his left shoulder. But something _felt_ different. Dreamer sensed it as she walked around the guild—emotions were more relaxed, friendly, hopeful.

Then again, that could have little to do with him joining the guild and more to do with this mysterious Edolas adventure.

Dreamer almost believed that it was all some elaborate prank—but the combination of Mystogan's embarrassing letter, and the arrival of the two newest members Pantherlily and Lisanna, made it believable.

Lisanna… Her death had occurred just before Dreamer joined Fairy Tail three years ago. She and Mirajane had stayed up many nights talking about her. Countless hours spent consoling Mira with her magic, helping her grieve. To think, she'd been alive the whole time, trapped in another world. Dreamer was so happy for her friend. It still seemed totally surreal.

The Mira look-alike sat across the table from Dreamer now, leaning on her older sister with an expression of bliss. The sight made her heart swell with joy.

"Honestly, I'm glad I was trapped in a giant lacrima that whole time," Dreamer expressed, thoughts drifting while eating lunch with several other members. "I don't think I could have emotionally handled meeting another me."

"We didn't run into Edolas 'you,'" Lucy said next to her. "Come to think of it, the Fairy Tail guild in Edolas seemed to have a lot less members than the one here."

"That's true," Lisanna chimed in. "Edolas Fairy Tail wasn't exactly a place you'd _want_ to be," she giggled. "It's much more lively and welcoming here."

"Welcoming, huh?" By the expression on Lucy's face, she wasn't so sure. She was scowling as Natsu swung upside down by a rafter.

"But I did know some of you," Mira's sister added. "Like you, Macbeth!"

The wizard in question snored. He was sitting on the ground with his back against a pillar, sound asleep.

"He was in Edolas Fairy Tail?" Dreamer asked, so surprised that she didn't even notice a piece of chicken fall off of the fork that was halfway to her mouth.

"Huh?" Lisanna blinked, as if she didn't understand the question. Then she shook her head sharply. "Oh, no! He wouldn't have been caught dead associating with Fairy Tail!"

"How did you know him then?" Lucy asked, as equally curious. Okay, probably not nearly as curious as Dreamer, but still…

"He was the head priest of the Oracion Seis church, of course!"

Jaws dropped. "A-a church?"

"That's right!" She grinned and nodded. "They really are such a symbol of hope in Edolas. The archbishop Zero, head priest Macbeth, and four other priests who spread joy and hope to the people. They even had a reservoir of magic power hidden away to use when someone desperately needed it. I was surprised to hear that they're a dark guild in this world!"

She looked at Macbeth and had the ridiculous image of him standing in white robes singing hymns flash through her mind. She coughed on a piece of lettuce in mid-laugh.

"I didn't know the Edolas version of you, though, Dreamer," she cocked her head slightly at Dreamer. "Thank you for being such a good friend to sis while I was gone."

Mirajane giggled quietly. She and Dreamer shared a warm look. "It was my pleasure," Dreamer said, honestly. Then she turned her head and looked around the guild at the activity currently happening. She caught sight of Piper playing Texas Hold'em with Cana, Gray, Max, and a couple other faces. Naturally, he had the biggest pile of casino chips in front of him and a massive grin on his face. A drunk Cana kept trying to not-so-sneakily nab chips from him, until he grabbed her head and gave her the noogie of a lifetime to make her stop. It brought a smile to Dreamer's face, seeing him so relaxed and happy again. And knowing that he fully supported Macbeth's entrance into the guild…

"What about Piper?" she asked Lisanna. "Was he in Edolas Fairy Tail?"

"He _was_ , actually." The girl sipped some pink lemonade through a straw before offering it to Mira, who politely declined. "He wasn't nearly as cool as this version, though. He was a nerd who played Castles and Creatures in the guild basement."

Lucy, Dreamer, and Mirajane all sweat dropped.

"Well, at least he was still s _ome_ sort of dice wizard."

She was about to ask about Jezran (who had been away from the guild for a couple of weeks now), but was interrupted by an iron-dragon slayer suddenly slamming his boot on the table top. Another piece of chicken fell from her fork.

"Hey, Beth!" He leaned forward toward where Macbeth was sitting, a smirk nearly dragging from ear to dragon-slaying ear.

Macbeth's response was another loud snore.

"Wake up, punk, I got something to show ya!" He pounced over the table and crouched in front of the other man.

"Gajeel, I don't think that's a good idea," Dreamer said nervously. "He's in pretty deep sleep right now. I wouldn't wake him up if I were you."

"I don't care what he's in, I wanna show him my cat! Lily, get over here!"

Gajeel was swiftly joined by a small black cat (or wait, that's right, they were actually called exceeds, if she remembered correctly). The adorable creature folded its paws over its chest. "What do you need, Gajeel?"

"This is Beth, the guy I was telling you about, remember?" He slapped Macbeth hard on the shoulder, nearly toppling him over. The reflector mage still didn't flinch.

"Ah yes, your friend with the… what did you say, 'god-like' singing voice?"

"I'd say more like hellish," Lucy mumbled. The other girls giggled in agreement.

"Yup! That's Beth-Boy, my best friend!" He shook him violently by the shoulders. "Wake up and meet my cat! Told ya I'd get a damn cat if it killed me, didn't I?"

 _ZzzzzZzzz_

"By the way, since when does he call him 'Beth?'" Lucy whispered.

"Ah… Ever since he joined Fairy Tail."

"Yeah, but why not 'Mac' or something?" Lisanna asked.

"I think it's cute," Mira giggled. "Kind of like how he calls Pantherlily 'Lily' instead of 'Panther.'"

"That's cute for a cat, but for another person…?"

"Wake up, man! Lily, show him what you can do!"

"As you wish." The black exceed transformed into a massive, muscular, man-shaped cat.

"That's… awkward," Dreamer blinked.

"He can be the mascot for the band! What do you think, Beth?" Gajeel grinned proudly, but Macbeth's head just bobbed sleepily, eyelashes fluttering a bit.

"Sorry, Gajeel. It's not happening," she shrugged.

The dragon-slayer pouted and sat with a huff on the edge of the bench. "It ain't right. I got myself a cat and this bastard doesn't even care."

"There, there." Mirajane stroked his broad back.

"It's not that he doesn't care," Dreamer started. "It's that—"

"He's just jealous he doesn't have a cat too!" Mira interrupted.

"…"

"…"

"…What?"

Gajeel seemed to think deeply about this. He stood up suddenly and slammed his hands on the table. "You're right!"

"Wait, Mira," Lucy waved her hands to try and stop the situation from getting out of control. "How does that even make sense? He's sleeping, not asking for a cat."

Dreamer nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Well… People who are depressed sleep a lot, right?" Mira touched her chin in thought. "And not having a cat would make someone depressed. So, logically, Macbeth is sleeping because he wants a cat!"

"She says logically but I'm not seeing it…" Lucy mumbled.

"It makes perfect sense!" Gajeel nodded and pumped a fist into the air. "I remember how pissed I was before I got my Lily! Every dragon-slayer needs a kitty cat!"

"Gajeel, he's not a dragon slayer," Lisanna helpfully said.

"Yeah, but his best friend is a dragon-slayer, so it's basically the same thing."

"Everyone needs a kitty cat!" Mira clapped.

The other women at the table all stared at them in disbelief.

"Alright, Lily! It's settled! We're gonna find Beth a cat!"

He practically ran out the guild hall doors.

"I'll help too!" Mira skipped in the opposite direction.

Meanwhile, a strand of drool hung from Macbeth's mouth.

"This is going to be bad," Lucy groaned.

"But probably entertaining!" Lisanna said cheerfully.

Only moments later, Mirajane came back holding three cats, and covered in claw marks.

"Mira, where did you get those?!" Dreamer squeaked.

"Which one do you think he'd like?"

The cats yowled in protest.

"Doesn't that one have a collar?" Lucy pointed at an orange cat that was desperately clawing at Mira's arm.

"Wait, that's our neighbor's cat, Mirajane!"

She placed all three cats on Macbeth's lap. "Pick one, Macbeth!" The cats purred, two of them nestling into his lap while the orange one climbed on top of his head and curled up to sleep.

 _ZzzzZzzzz_

"I'M BACK!" The door was kicked open and Gajeel came in with a wiggling garbage bag. He dumped a bound up exceed onto the table in between the girls.

"Release me at once!" The exceed yowled. "The Zentopian Guard will hear of this, I assure you!"

"You want this guy to be your master?" Gajeel dangled the gray, glasses-wearing Exceed in front of Macbeth.

"Absolutely not! Now let me go!"

One of the first three cats jumped up and batted at the rope holding the exceed, which snapped, enabling him to fly away in a huff.

"Mom, Mom, what about this one?" Syllest ran up and put a guinea pig on Macbeth's leg.

"Syllest, when did _you_ get in on this?! That's not even a cat!"

"Yes it is!" She snapped. "It just has dwarfism!"

The guinea pig crawled up Macbeth's sleeve. A pink cat smacked at it with its paws. A dappled cat played with his dream-catcher necklace.

"You guys, stop!" Dreamer frantically tried to collect the animals, but when she grabbed one, another would get away. "He's going to be _so_ mad when he wakes up!"

"I can help!" Lisanna transformed into some kind of sexy leopard-thing and began to rub against Macbeth, granting her a harsh tug by the hair from Dreamer.

"That is NOT helping." Her eyes shot daggers at Mirajane's sister.

"Be careful Lisanna, they're dating," Mirajane said.

"Oh, you guys are dating now?" Lucy asked.

Cats meowed, a guinea pig chirped.

"WE ARE NOT DATING."

 _ZzzzZzzz mumble mumble_

"Ooh, Lisanna! You gave me the best idea!" Mirajane jumped up and down in excitement. "Lucy, can you bring out Virgo?"

"Uh, sure, I guess." Lucy lifted a key. "Open! Gate of the Maiden: Virgo!"

In a puff of smoke, the pink haired spirit showed up and knelt before her master. "Would you like to punish me, Princess?"

"What?! No! I—"

Mirajane snatched Virgo by the wrist and whispered in her ear, ocean-eyes gleaming deviously.

Dreamer was still desperately trying to remove the animals from Macbeth's person without waking him. Currently, a cat was batting at his magenta beads while the guinea pig was nibbling on his pocket—from inside it.

Without warning, hands grabbed onto Dreamer's arms and she was pulled backward. In a span of only seconds, Virgo had completely re-dressed her.

 _~Wooooow~_

Sparkles shimmered in the air around her. She was now dressed in a skimpy cat costume, complete with black ears, a black tail that protruded from under a too-short skirt, and fluffy boots.

"WHAT THE—"

"Heh, heh." Gajeel patted her between the ears. "I shoulda thought of this one, Mira. What would make a better pussy-cat for Macbeth than his sweet Dream?"

Her cheeks went bright pink and she swatted his hand away.

"You look so cute, Dreamer!" Mirajane clasped her hands together.

"Glad I could be of assistance," Virgo bowed.

"GIVE ME BACK MY REAL CLOTHES!" She demanded, but Virgo had already poofed away. She glanced back at Macbeth, hoping and praying he hadn't woken up. Thank god, he was still fast asleep, despite the Guinea pig swinging on his braid.

"Wait! The best part!" Mira clasped a red collar around her neck, with a jangling bell and jewel studded nametag.

"What in the…" Dreamer lifted the tag so she could read it. "What the heck is 'Middream?'"

"It's your ship name, silly!"

Her blush could not have gotten any deeper. "Mira, so help me, Mavis, I will use my magic on you when you're asleep and make you dream about dead dogs for the next three weeks!"

"No you won't," her friend giggled confidently.

Dreamer was in the middle of undoing the collar when another voice echoed loudly through the hall.

"MIRAJANE STRAUSS."

Everyone froze.

Erza Scarlet was standing on the stage with a red pulse mark above her head, the air around her black with evil energy.

"Uh oh…" Mira didn't stop smiling, but she took a step back.

"Is it true you've been making ridiculous ships of me and spreading them around the guild?"

"Sounds like Mira," Lucy whispered.

"Yep, sounds about right," Dreamer agreed.

"Oh, big sis."

"Grayza?" Erza took a furious step forward. Juvia started to weep in the crowd. "Natza?" Natsu fell from the rafters. "Midza?"

Dreamer punched Mira in the shoulder. "Really?!"

"Even Erzlow?"

Bixlow catcalled in the crowd and narrowly dodged a chair to the face.

Erza requipped into her Heaven's Wheel armor. "You will pay the consequences of this sin, She-Devil!"

"Only if you can catch me!" Mira transformed into a demon and flew through the roof, scattering debris everywhere and being closely followed by an infuriated redhead.

Crickets chirped.

Macbeth snored.

"Well, I think I'm done with lunch!" Lisanna ran.

"Yeah, I don't want to be around when they come back," Lucy said before grabbing Natsu by the ear and taking off, herself.

"Hey! What about all these animals?!" Dreamer called after them. Gajeel was still standing next to her. "Help me out, please?"

"Nah, come on Lily." He waved and started to walk away.

"Gajeel!" She whined.

"I caught Beth a kitty cat. My job today is done."

She flushed and looked back down at her scanty clothes.

"I hate you all…" She grumbled and started to untangle the animals from Macbeth's hair.

"I'll take them, Mommy!" Syllest and Romeo came with a wagon.

"Thank you, sweetie. You're the best."

"Well duh!" They carted the cats and guinea pig away. She could have sworn she overheard a whisper about setting them loose in Kardia Cathedral during church hours, but she pretended not to hear that part.

She sat with a breath of exhaustion on the ground in front of Macbeth. She could hardly believe he'd slept through all of that. She couldn't help but giggle as she reached up and brushed dust from the broken ceiling off of his head.

"I don't know why they're so obsessed with finding you a cat anyway," she giggled quietly. " _You're_ the one who acts like a kitten."

She recalled a time when Syllestra said the same thing, followed by the insinuation that Dreamer should "pet him and find out" if he purrs. She blushed again at the memory.

Still, it was true. He did remind her of a cat. In fact… She smirked mischievously and took the cat-ear headband off her head to place it on his.

"Hee hee, perfect match." She flicked one of the ears, thoroughly amused with herself. It took a few moments before she realized…

His eyes were open.

"GAH!" She jumped back when she caught him staring at her. "M-Macbeth! I didn't know you woke up!"

He blinked groggily and rubbed his eyes, like he was checking to see if he was looking at her right. Red eyes drifted up and down her body, lingering on her overly-exposed chest.

She threw her arms over her chest and laughed nervously. "I, uh, this isn't what it looks like!" What _did_ it look like? "You see, you were asleep and Gajeel really wanted to show you his new cat but he couldn't get you to wake up so Mira came up with this crazy idea that it was because you were depressed because you don't have your own cat so then they got you a bunch of cats and it was crazy and they were crawling all over the place and then they thought it would be funny to dress ME up as a cat so they did but—" On and on she rambled, just like Syllest would have done. It was clear where the child got that habit from…

Macbeth just continued to stare. He reached up and felt one of his cat ears.

"Ah! That's! Well, you were still asleep, and I thought…" She caught her breath. "I think you make a better cat than I do." She averted her eyes.

He rubbed the cat ear with his thumb and forefinger.

"I see."

Now it was her turn to stare. _I see? I see?! What does that even mean? Is it a good thing? A bad thing? Is he angry? Does he like my outfit?_

"I-I'll just take that back…" She reached for the headband. He snatched her wrist and tugged her closer to him. Her breath caught in her throat. She met his eyes and could see that he was still only half-awake. There was a hint of deviousness in them, sure, but for the most part, he just looked tired.

"You look stupid," he said quietly, eyes scanning over her once more.

"Great, thanks for those words of encouragement."

"So I remind you of a cat, do I?" He asked, cocking his head lightly to the side.

She nodded, still stinging from the 'stupid' comment.

"Do you like cats, Dream?" Now his voice was a low whisper and he was leaning closer to her. She swallowed, body catching fire internally.

"I-I mean… I'm more of a cat person than a dog person, if that's what you're asking…"

"Mm." Without warning, he stretched out on her lap.

"H-Hey!" Her voice was a high whine.

He looked totally at ease, looking up at her with his head in her lap. He smirked and pawed at the bell on her collar, which she'd totally forgotten she was wearing.

"Stupid," he repeated. Then, he turned his head and nuzzled against her stomach, closing his eyes again.

"M-Macbeth, get up," she whined. "This is embarrassing."

"Sh, I'm trying to sleep," he groaned in complaint.

"Not on my lap, you're not!"

He grabbed her hand and guided it to his hair. "Pet me," came the command.

If her heart could beat any faster, it would have thumped right out of her chest.

"No way, I'm not…"

He gave a whining groan against the skin of her stomach, which, for the tiniest of moments, sounded just like a purr.

"This is insane. And degrading. And embarrassing."

 _And he is so, seriously cute right now._

She cleared her throat awkwardly and began to stroke his hair, which was surprisingly soft for as thick and coarse it looked.

He was asleep instantly, which of course meant that she would be stuck there for who knows how long, an ex-dark wizard strewn across her lap, still wearing kitty-cat ears.

Gray walked by and stopped in his tracks at the sight of them sitting on the ground like this. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Not. One. Word."

He gestured that he was zipping his lips before walking away with a chuckle.

 _Everyone needs a kitty cat, huh?_

She sighed, closed her eyes, and continued to stroke his hair.

* * *

 **A/N: There. Some silliness! I would just like to say that the Dreamer x Mystogan thing is 100% crack ship gag with no seriousness to it whatsoever. I had decided a long time ago that Dreamer would have charmed him at some point to get sleeping pills, and I ended up running with it as a joke. xD**

 **Anyway, I wanted to give you guys something to break up the tension, because it's right back into the muck from here.**


	37. Conflict of Interest

**Chapter 37: Conflict of Interest**

"I said no!" Dreamer put her hands on her hips, lips pinched in defiance. "And I, for one, am disappointed in both of you for acting this way! Here I thought there was an ounce of good in you…"

Piper and Macbeth shared an amused look.

"Dreamy, come on! You's know we got gipped on that job!"

"That does _not_ mean I'm going to use my magic to seduce the guy into giving us more money!" Her face was an adorable shade of pink. "I can't believe you would ask me that!"

"What? He was a sleazebag," Piper shrugged, chuckling. "A good wink from one of those magical eyes woulda gotten us his entire savings."

"Despicable!" She huffed. Her glare turned on Macbeth. "This was your idea, wasn't it?"

"No," he answered with a sly smirk. "I never suggested you use your _magic_ to seduce him." His gaze drifted down below her collar.

"HEY!" Piper and Dreamer snapped simultaneously. Macbeth's eyebrows arched with amusement.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you two…" She sighed and pinched her brows together. "Children. Both of you…" She turned on her heels and strode away, ignoring Piper's calls.

"Ah well, can't says we didn't try." Piper shrugged and thrust his hands into his pockets. He smiled after her until she was around the corner, then looked at Macbeth. "Hey. It's your week to clean the bathroom, and the counter's startin' to look like a warzone."

"Maybe if you were less sloppy with your hair gel…"

"Maybe if you's put your makeup away after you's use it!"

"Who needs four bottles of the same cologne?"

"Last I checked, you had a collection of those damn herbal oils Porlyusica makes. Least my cologne doesn't make the room smell like a potions shop!"

"Why do you use the same cologne every day, anyway?" His red eyes sparked. "Let me guess, Dreamer complimented how you smelled one day and you've used the same scent ever since?"

Piper's cheeks took some color. "You're a goddamn smartass, Mac. She ain't got nothing to do with it."

"Mhm."

"Don't push your luck, punk. Just clean the damn bathroom!" Piper snarled and stomped away, boots scraping the floor. Macbeth smirked victoriously. He stretched and yawned, debating whether he'd take a nap or actually go back to their room to clean. It might be worth it to see Piper pissed off at least one more time today. _Nap it is_.

He started to walk, but stopped in midstride when he heard the metallic clank of a boot on the floor behind him.

"Macbeth." A firm voice called out to him. He tensed immediately, and turned slowly.

"Titania." For as long as he'd been around the Fairy Tail guild hall, Erza Scarlet still made goosebumps rise on his flesh. Then again, that seemed to be the effect she had on just about everyone.

"Please," the redhead approached him, "call me Erza."

He regarded her suspiciously, instinctively crossing his arms over his chest beneath his coat.

"Is there something you need, _Erza_?" He relaxed slightly. "Were my cakes insufficient this week?"

"No." She stood directly in front of him, one hand on her hip. "Your pastries were perfect, as always."

"Then to what do I owe the pleasure of being in your presence, mighty Erza?"

"I never personally welcomed you into our guild," she said. She thrust a gauntleted hand out to him. He raised an eyebrow but she did not lower it. After a long, tense moment, he reached out to awkwardly shake it. Her grip on his fingers was crushing.

She gave a nod of approval and finally dropped her hand. Her arms crossed over her chest, expression shadowing.

"Now that that's done…" Her brown eyes met his with some fierceness. "I would like to ask you to resign from Fairy Tail immediately."

His eyes widened and he took an instinctive step back, as if the shock of her words had unsteadied him.

"You can't be serious!" He scoffed through a startled laugh.

"I am very serious." She scanned his face and posture, gauging his reaction. "It would seem that you are unaware of the situation."

Pricks of fear spread through his nervous system, putting every muscle on edge.

"There is no use in hiding the truth," she sighed heavily. She clasped her hand on his shoulder as if to brace him for her next words. "The remaining members of the Oracion Seis have escaped prison."

He stumbled back, legs suddenly not supporting his weight. She caught him in a bear-like embrace to keep him from falling. He shook violently, stiff as a board in her arms.

"I knew this news would be difficult for you to take." The woman did not release him. "I know those people are more than old guild mates to you. They're your friends. Believe me, Macbeth. I understand."

Cold tears slid down his cheeks, dripping with tiny _plinks_ onto her armor.

"If you did not care for them, you would have had your Oracion Seis mark removed. But as it stands…" She leaned back, still clutching his shoulders, empathy and resolve etched on her face simultaneously. "You have a conflict of interest. This is why I am imploring you to leave Fairy Tail at once."

He was still trembling, head hanging down.

"You may be one of us now, Macbeth," her voice got sterner, "but the Oracion Seis is still an enemy of Fairy Tail. I don't doubt for a moment that they will come looking for you. Look at me, Macbeth!" She shook him slightly and he lifted his head to stare at her, the terror and uncertainty evident in his eyes. "Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that if they come for you, you will stay true to Fairy Tail?"

His red eyes flickered, lips parted… then he looked away in shame.

"That's what I thought." She released him. "The sooner you leave the easier it will be on all of us."

He stared at the floor.

"I'm serious, Macbeth." Her voice got quieter. "The longer you stay, the harder it will be on her when you leave."

 _Her._

"I will not force you to resign from Fairy Tail," Erza continued, "but I believe it is the appropriate course of action in this situation. Please…" Her voice quavered. "I know how hard it is to do what's right when it means you may lose someone you care for…But, if you do truly care for Dreamer, your actions will show the reformation she longs to see in you, and you will make the correct choice."

A long silence ensued. When it became clear that he had no intention of responding to her, she gave a brief nod. "I will give you time to consider your options." She started to walk away, but paused. "Macbeth… I'm sorry you have to make such a hard choice, but for what it's worth… I'm happy your friends are getting another opportunity to find their freedom. I'm sure that brings you joy." With these words she left him in the hall.

Faces flashed in his mind. Racer, Angel, Cobra, Hoteye… _Father._ Sawyer, Sorano, Erik, Richard… Zero.

"No…" Cell walls closed around him. Darkness and cold wrapping him up like a familiar blanket. The screams, the memories, the fear. He'd thought he was free. He'd thought the tower would fade into his past like a distant fog, but now here it was, looming in the form of his escaped family. Erza was right, they would come for him. And what then?

Dream… Cream colored hair that brushed a slender neck. Large eyes—always so expressive—swirling cherry blossoms caught in a raging windstorm always drawing in everything they saw. Pink lips that laughed, frowned, pinched together in irritation, matched the pale-rose blush that spread across her cheekbones when he looked at her. Her body, small and slender and light, reminiscent of a ballerina in a music box, spinning to a music only she could hear—an airy melody of sunlight, that sang of all the goodness and hope in the world, of reformed monsters and golden hearts.

And Syllestra… Hair as black as an ocean under the darkness of a new moon. Those same pink eyes as her surrogate mother. The mischievous grin of a free-spirited child, unbound by towers and screams. Her distinct laugh, as loud and perforating as the whistle of a train, giggle like bells when she threw her arms around his neck and rambled on and on about the innocent things that concerned her.

 _And what then? What will you do, Macbeth of Fairy Tail? Or is it_ still _Midnight of Oracion Seis?_

* * *

"Thank you for helping me out, Dreamer!" Mira smiled sweetly as Dreamer placed the last empty mug under the counter.

"Of course!" She smiled back.

Kinana had been having another one of her episodes, and with how big the guild had gotten, Mira couldn't keep up with the demands of the kitchen by herself anymore.

The white-haired wizard hummed happily and started for the kitchen with a tray of dishes.

"Here, I'll do that, Mira," she offered, taking the tray from her.

"Oh, really, it's no problem, Dreamer! You can go pick up Syllest from school now, I can finish here."

"I insist!" She held the tray out of Mira's reach. "It's Piper's turn to pick her up, anyway."

"That's right, it's Wednesday isn't it?" Mira tilted her head in thought. "Is he taking her to get ice cream again?"

"He better not," she scowled. "She does _not_ need to pig out on ice cream every week."

Mira giggled and ruffled Dreamer's hair.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh nothing!" Mira continued to giggle. "It's just that you're a really good mom, Dreamer."

Her cheeks took some color and she almost dropped the tray of dishes. A fork fell off and clattered to the floor. "Do you… really think so?"

"Yes, I do!" She twirled and stopped suddenly, eyes lighting up. "In fact, I think you should have a baby of your own!"

Dreamer blanched. "I shouldn't have asked…"

"Dreamer! You have to hurry and have babies with Macbeth so Syllest can have little brothers and sisters!"

She _did_ drop the tray this time. Luckily, Mira caught it with demon-like reflexes and not a single glass mug shattered on the floor.

"First of all," Dreamer sputtered, face red, "how many children do you think I'm going to have?! Second of all, it's not like that with Macbeth and you know it!"

"Mhm," her friend rolled her eyes as if she didn't buy that for a second. "That's why you want to go to the kitchen so bad! You know he's in there!"

"Wha—" She shook her head fervently. "I had no idea!"

"Sure, Dreamer! You know he gets milk and cookies every night after closing!"

"Mira, I seriously had no idea!"

"Maybe you knew it subconsciously! That's so romantic!" Mira laid out dramatically against the counter. "Star-struck lovers, drawn to each other by fate, without their own knowledge!"

"I'm leaving." Dreamer grumbled and picked up the tray, heading for the kitchen door. She purposely tuned out the rest of Mira's dramatic play, particularly the part where she started to get handsy with the mop.

She walked inside and headed for the counter—except now her heart was thumping somewhere in her throat because there was a chance Macbeth was here. Sure enough, he stood at the metallic fridge, retrieving a jug of milk.

He didn't seem to hear her walk in. She took advantage of this moment to observe him, smiling to herself as she did so. He wasn't in his usual attire. It seemed he was settling down for the night, as he wore a simple black v-neck and blue pajama pants sporting little yellow ducks on them. She stifled a giggle, wondering where he got the article of clothing. The white underside of his hair was pulled back and clipped, presumably to keep it out of his food. She'd noticed he kept a hairband in his pocket for these exact occasions. And though the pendant rested somewhere under the fabric of his shirt, she could see the chain of the necklace Syllest had made him. She wondered if he ever took it off.

He was examining the date on the milk with his head cocked slightly, as if trying to decide if he should risk pouring himself a cup. He flipped the cap off and gave a reserved sniff at the jug. Seemingly satisfied, he turned to set it on the counter. It was only then that he noticed her standing there.

"Hello." She smiled widely at him. She was met with the fluttering of his eyelashes in surprise. He quickly turned his back on her in favor for picking up a cookie jar.

She sat the tray of dishes near the sink and watched as he fixed himself a plate of cookies. "Remember when I first caught you getting cookies and milk?" She giggled at the memory. "I thought you were so cute." Her cheeks caught fire when she released those words had just slipped out of her mouth. She watched his shoulders tense slightly, hand pausing for the tiniest of moments.

"I recall that I told you I hated you," he said. His voice seemed carefully strained for some reason.

"Oh yeah, I guess you did." She believed him then, but she knew that wasn't the case now. They were friends. They were teammates. They were… She swallowed nervously, not sure how to finish that thought.

He sat the plate of cookies next to the milk. "What do you want?" he asked, somewhat harshly.

Surprised by his attitude, she stuttered on her words. "I-I was just helping Mira clean." She regained composure and smiled brightly. She leaned against the counter. "But I have some time to myself right now. Maybe you could share your cookies with me?" She was hoping she sounded playful and not uncertain. She ignored the uncomfortable fluttering in her stomach—tried not to put meaning to the feeling.

"No." He didn't even look at her. His voice was cold, face like stone.

She frowned, an unusual ache throbbing in her chest. "What if I'm quiet?" She asked, remaining as lighthearted as possible.

"Go away, Dreamer." He looked at her, red eyes flashing in warning.

The ache deepened. "Did I do something to upset you, Macbeth?" She desperately tried to remember what she might have done. It wasn't as if he wasn't antisocial sometimes, but something felt… wrong. She couldn't describe it. Her magic was picking up on emotions she didn't understand.

"As if you'd ever have enough power over me to make me upset," he scoffed and averted his gaze. "Take a hint, _Dream_ ," the way he said her nickname this time was not teasing or endearing, it was mocking, cold as ice. "I'm not interested in spending time with you."

The ache tore through her chest. It felt like her ribs were being torn open to expose a bruising organ.

"What's your problem?" She snapped, instinctively defensive.

He dropped the plate with a clatter back onto the counter. He leaned over the counter, bringing his face near hers. A cruel smirk touched his lips. She was frozen in his blood-red gaze, lip trembling when he reached up and grabbed her chin.

"Look at you." He practically hissed. "Pathetic."

Tears welled in her eyes.

"It was fun to play with you for a while, Dreamer," he flicked a strand of her hair, "but it's gotten boring." He yawned, as if to prove his point. "You're too predictable. I think I'll move on to something else. That blonde, Lucy. She seems to have some very expressive reactions."

She yanked her head away from him and lifted her hand. He grabbed her wrist harshly before she could slap him.

"Hit me again and I'll make you suffer." His voice was an icy threat, no humor in it at all.

She gasped through a sudden onslaught of tears. "W-Why are you acting like this?! This isn't the Macbeth that I know! You're acting just like the old you! What happened?!"

"I may have a new guild mark, Dreamer, but I am the same man." He smirked. "Does that disappoint you?"

She ripped her hand away from him and rubbed her wrist where his fingers had been.

"How could you treat me like this?!" The tears rolled down her face, sobs wracking her body. "I thought we… I thought you—"

"Cared about you?" He rolled his eyes. "I cared about you so long as you could bring me some form of entertainment. Now that you have nothing to offer me, I have no interest in you whatsoever."

She put her face in her hands and her knees shook, barely supporting her weight.

"M-Macbeth, why…" She sobbed violently and looked up at him through her tears. "You don't really mean that, do you?"

For the briefest moment, an emotion passed over his face. Fear. Regret. Sorrow. But in a flash, it was gone. His face was void of any feeling. Instead of answering, he turned and left the kitchen—cookies and milk forgotten on the counter—door slamming behind him as he practically fled the room.

Once he was gone, she fell to her knees and wept. The strange emotions she'd felt still lingered in the air around her. They were like a code she couldn't decipher. She knew there was fear there, but there were so many other things too. She couldn't understand. And his cruel words stirred up her own emotions, just making it even more confusing.

In all the times she'd had an episode and wallowed in the combined pain and sorrow and hurt of dozens of people, she'd never felt this bad. This was some form of nameless anguish that made her whole body hurt. All she could do was gasp for breath as she tried not to drown, wondering why Macbeth had shoved her down into these waters.

 _I have no interest in you whatsoever._

She stumbled back out into the guild hall, tears soaking her shirt. Mira looked up in surprise and Dreamer ran into her arms.

"Mirajane!" She clung to her best friend like a life-raft in the ocean. Waves pulling her down, choking her, filling her with salt water that escaped through tear ducts.

"Sh, sh," Mira stroked her hair. "Let's get you home."

* * *

Just outside of the opposite kitchen door, Macbeth slid against the wall. His eyes closed, lips a straight line. He wrapped his arms around himself, each hand touching a guild mark on each shoulder.

 _Fairy Tail. Oracion Seis._

 _Oracion Seis. Fairy Tail._


	38. Please, Don't Leave

**Chapter 38: Please, Don't Leave**

Somehow, Dreamer convinced Mirajane not to kill Macbeth. It took a heck of a lot of magical coercion, but the other woman finally agreed to keep a safe distance from him, though Dreamer caught her making threatening gestures at him when he walked through the guild hall. Except two days had passed and he could barely be found walking through the guild hall at all. Or anywhere else for that matter.

She'd tried to ask Piper about it, but the dice-wizard shrugged it off. _He's always actin' weird, doll. I don't know what to tell you's._

It was killing her. She could count on her hand the number of times she'd seen him in the past two days, and each time they made eye contact, he would glare at her and walk away. She could hardly sleep at night, tossing and turning, wondering what she could have possibly done to warrant the kind of verbal abuse he'd dished out to her. Was it true? Was this really who he was? And had she always just been a plaything to him?

She was lost in thought, sighing at her usual table in the guild hall. She really wished Jezran were home. She could talk to him about anything and he would impart sage-like wisdom and fix her a mustard sandwich. But he'd been gone for three weeks now, tracking information about Resmond.

Resmond and the Black Diamond incidents seemed far away to Dreamer now. All she could think about was the cruel look in Macbeth's eyes, when he grabbed her by the chin, when he suggested that Lucy would make a better toy than her…

Why did this hurt so much? She'd never felt like this before. The only pain that resembled this was the pain of losing Rosy… No. _Nothing_ could possibly be as horrible as that had been. No emotional pain would _ever_ compare to that moment.

But this… This was still bad. It was agonizing.

 _I think I… The way I feel about him… I must—no, no. That's not it. I couldn't possibly._

She wasn't in love with Macbeth. She couldn't be.

"HEY!" A loud voice bellowed in the room, grabbing her attention. _"I_ can handle your shit, Beth, but you ain't got any right to talk to her like that!"

The iron dragon slayer was standing protectively in front of Levy, who was looking a mixture of insulted and embarrassed. In front of him was none other than the source of all Dreamer's pain and longing. He was smirking cruelly at Gajeel, red eyes just as threatening and cold as they'd been toward her.

"It's true," Macbeth said in a low voice, barely audible, full of venom. "Half of the women here are only in this guild because of the lecher of a master. I've yet to see any of them possess any sort of real skill with magic."

She stood up, hardly believing her eyes. He was picking a fight with Gajeel too? But they were friends…

"What the hell, man?! You're part of this guild too, you know! What stick's up your ass that's got you insulting your guild mates?!"

"Maybe I should have considered how weak you fairies are before I joined," Macbeth scoffed. "Angel outranks all of your women in magical abilities."

"Yeah, asshole? Last I heard, Lucy kicked your little celestial wizard's ass."

"It must have been dumb luck."

Gajeel's fist throbbed. He showed excellent control by restraining a punch. "You need to eat some chocolate, change your tampon, and take a nap, pal—before you piss me off."

Macbeth just scoffed and turned his back. He strode away, coat fluttering behind him.

"Don't you walk away from me, bastard!"

"Gajeel, please!" Levy threw her arms around his stomach, holding him back. She pressed her face against the small of his back. "Don't do something you'll regret. He's still your friend!"

His sharp face took some color and he swallowed. "Alright, fine. You can let go of me, shorty."

Dreamer didn't watch to see what happened between them. Her eyes were following the train of Macbeth's coat as it disappeared around the corner.

"This is so wrong…" She shook her head and chased after him. "Macbeth!"

She knew he heard her, but he didn't slow down. If anything, he picked up his pace, then left through a side door of the guild hall. She followed, fists clenched in determination.

The day was bright and warm—hardly a breeze. It painted a mood of serenity, completely contrasting the tense atmosphere that existed between her and the man striding down the side path toward the male dorms.

"Macbeth, stop!" She called after him, desperate. "Talk to me, please!"

He lifted a hand suddenly, and a throb of dark energy shoved her back. "Leave me alone," he hissed. He walked into the door of the dormitory without a single glance back.

She stood on the sidewalk, heart pounding, adrenaline running through her veins. Indecision raced in her head. His words still stung—they made her want to be far away from him. But… She shook her head.

 _I can't let him act like this!_

Mind made, she charged through the dormitory door. She knew where their room was and that's where she headed. She ran into a very shocked looking Gray along the way.

"Hey, what's the rush Donna?"

She ignored him and skidded around the hall in time to see Macbeth reaching for the door handle.

"MACBETH!" She screamed his name. "Stop right there!"

Amazingly, he did. His fingers fell away from the handle, arm going limp in defeat. He looked at her, eyes burning embers.

"You're a persistent fool," he snapped. "Didn't I tell you I'm not interested—"

"I know what you said!" She marched toward him, fueled by something beyond her. "And I don't believe you! I don't believe you really feel that way, about me, about the women of Fairy Tail…"

He flinched as she approached, fear flickering across his face. It was almost humorous, Macbeth looking scared of _her,_ except there was nothing funny about this situation. There was only pain, frustration, and fear.

"Why are you doing this?!" Her voice lowered as she got closer. He tensed like an animal ready to flee. "Why are you suddenly trying to push everyone away?"

"Don't be stupid," he started, but she ignored him. She closed the distance between them and stood on her toes, hands clutching his coat to brace herself as she leaned against him. He took a step back, the fear growing in his eyes—pupils retracting. His head thumped against the wall—she had him pinned there.

"Why are you doing this?" Her voice was a whisper now, tears gleaming in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Macbeth, please… Tell me what's hurting you so I can help. Don't push away the people who care about you. Don't push _me_ away."

His eyes lingered on her trembling lips. He shivered involuntarily.

"Get off," he commanded, but with no real passion in his voice.

"Talk to me, please!" She lifted a hand and stroked his white hair. He instinctively leaned his cheek into her palm. "You don't have to be afraid, Macbeth. Just tell me what's wrong."

"I'm not afraid," he lied.

"Macbeth…"

She met his eyes and held them there. Willing forward the magic circles—dancing blossoms.

 _Trust. Trust. Trust. Peace. Honesty. Need._

Tears sprang to his eyes.

 _Trust. Truth. Friendship. Lo—_

She cut off that word. She wouldn't push that feeling onto him.

"Macbeth… I'm here for you."

Her magic worked. He let out a strangled cry and suddenly pulled her into his arms. He cried desperately into her hair, clutching her as if his life depended on it.

"I don't know what to do!" he sobbed. "Help me… I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"Sh." She sighed quietly and stroked his back. "Let's sit down and talk, okay? Everything will be okay, I promise."

He nodded and sniffled before grabbing her hand. She withheld a gasp, instead allowing him to tug her by the hand into the room he shared with Piper. He pulled her onto the edge of his bed and fell to his knees in front of her, burrowing against her stomach, body shaking with violent tears.

"Hey…" She awkwardly stroked his hair. "It's okay, Macbeth."

"Dreamer…" He whimpered and curled his hands into fists around the fabric of her shirt.

"Tell me what's wrong," she whispered, heart aching for him. His emotions were painfully strong. She could feel them choking the air in the room. The same strange and conflicted feelings she'd felt in the kitchen.

"I can't," he gasped. "I don't… I can't." He looked up at her, as desperate as a child.

"Then… can I read you?" She lifted her hands.

He nodded. So afraid. So alone.

She brought her fingertips down to his temples, brushing aside long strands of black. She looked into his eyes and lost herself in them…

 _Show me where these feelings are coming from, Macbeth. Show me so I can help you._

 _The Tower. The screaming. The pain._ These memories were always on the cusp of his emotions. She was accustomed to them by now. _Running. Fleeing. Sawyer is ahead of them. He's the fastest runner. He doesn't slow down, even when the dual-haired boy trips, face colliding with stone. A hand reaches down to help him up. Erik, face full of hope. "The boats are right there, Macbeth! We'll be free!" He takes that hand and they run. Toward hope. Toward freedom._

The memory swirled, taking her someplace else, to more emotions.

" _You're safe here." The man promises. He looks wild. Red eyes and white hair. Terror. Flashes of more cells. These have white walls and mechanical doors instead of iron bars, but they are still cells. "It's for your own protection," Zero says. They believe him. They have to believe him._

 _Excruciating pain. Every nerve burning. Blood vessels rupturing. Pain so intense that he can't scream. He can't think. Then Zero pats him on the head. "You do show potential, son. More than the others." "Son?" Sadistic eyes gleaming. "That's right. I'll be your father from now on, Midnight."_

 _Admiration. Desperation. He has to be good enough for Father. He must be strong enough. "Father, I'm sorry! I tried but—" "SILENCE!" The fists. The rage. He cries and covers his ears, willing him to stop. Stop hurting him. He has to be stronger so he can seal Zero away. He has to be stronger so that Brain will love him. Brain won't hurt him. Brain will love him and give him freedom._

There was a pang in her chest as she felt these twisted memories.

" _Hey, don't cry, Midnight." Erik sits beside him, wrapped in Cubellios. "Brain rescued us," Sorano says, taking his hand. "He'll help us get freedom," Sawyer adds, stretching on the ground at Macbeth's feet. "We'll have everything we need." Richard throws them into a bear hug._

She sighed. At least he had friends. He had hope.

 _Erza. "The Oracion Seis have escaped."_

"Oh!" The shock of this revelation made her lose the connection. She blinked down at him, surprised. It all began to make sense. That was what sparked his sudden change in attitude—the knowledge that his friends were free.

"You feel… glad for them, right?" She focused, detecting the warm emotion threaded through the tangled ball of his feelings. "Because they're your friends and now they're free too?"

He breathed out a shaking sigh.

"But…" A thread of cold, icy fear. "I still don't understand why you're so scared."

He rested his cheek against her thigh, sniffling. He reminded her of a puppy looking to its master for comfort.

"How did they get free?" He asked, panic on the edge of his tone. "He must have broken them out… H-He'll come for me, Dreamer!" His nails dug into her skin. "He'll punish me for failing him at Nirvana!"

"You don't know that Zero broke them out, Macbeth." She kept her voice calm and comforting, offering her gentlest smile. "And you don't know if he'll come looking for you, either. Besides, even if he does, you're one of us now." Her fingertips traced where the mark was on his shoulder, somewhere below his coat sleeve. "We won't let anything bad happen to you."

She patted the bed next to her. "Come lay down and rest. I can take your nightmares away for a little while and help you sleep."

He obeyed, climbing onto the bed just to lean against the wall, knees drawn to his chest. "Don't be stupid…" He stared at the bedsheets. "The last time you used that ability on me, you were disabled for weeks."

"Yeah, but my magic is all restored now." She sat criss-cross and faced him. "One night won't hurt." _Anything to make this better._

"Even if Fath— _Zero_ isn't with them, they'll still come for me." He sank a bit more into his knees.

The words hung between them. She mulled over them, cogs spinning in her brain as she tried to piece together what was going on in Macbeth's complicated mind. When it hit her, her stomach twisted.

"If your friends come to get you… you might go with them."

His lack of response was all the answer she needed.

"Oh." Part of her wanted to shake him and scream. What about Fairy Tail? What about Team Derelict Heart and the memories they'd made? What about their walk through the Rose Garden center, their magical carpet rides, cakes and concerts, laughter and teasing? What about _her?_

She wiped tears away with her sleeves. "Is that why you've been so mean?" She cleared her throat. "You're trying to push all of us away so that it's easier for you… to leave?"

"…Yes."

"You should have just talked to us!" She leaned on her palms toward him. "We're your friends, Macbeth. We would have understood!"

He kept looking away. "How could anyone understand?"

"We all struggle with something, you know! We don't all share the same past as you, but each member of Fairy Tail has their own story. No one would judge you for thinking about going back to Oracion Seis now that you know they're free. They're like family to you. I understand that."

"If I go back to them, I'll be an enemy of Fairy Tail again." He met her eyes, face full of sorrow.

This was more emotion than she'd ever seen from this man, even on the night she found him in the wreckage of Nirvana.

"I don't want to lose Fairy Tail!" He put his face in his hands. "I started to think I could be something good here… I thought maybe I can… But I'll never be free from the Tower! It was all fake, every moment here!"

"That's not true," she said, sternly. This time, it was her turn to crawl next to him—to place her head on his shoulder and lean into him. "It's all real, Macbeth. All of it. And you _are_ good." She smiled. "You're a good man."

"Liar." He pulled her close once more, breathing against her hair, trying to control his sobs. Then, in a broken voice through the strands of hair, against the delicate skin of her ear…

"I don't want to lose you."

Her breath caught in her throat, a blush spreading over her cheeks. She knew he was probably just acting like this because he was under a charm, but even so… That broken whisper against her skin while his arms held her close—it was enough to warrant a sigh of pleasure.

"Those things you said in the kitchen…" she clutched his collar and nuzzled against his hair as well, basking in the scent of chamomile and its sharp, rusty edge. "You didn't mean them, did you?"

His breath was so warm, lips so close to her flesh. "I'm sorry…" he sighed. "I'm sorry I made you cry." He said this while his own tears streaked her hair.

"Macbeth…" She leaned back and looked at him. Her eyes flicked back and forth between his. "You won't lose me." She swallowed hard. "I'm never going to leave you, okay? Even if…" The tears threatened to choke her. "Even if you go with the Oracion Seis. I'll still be here for you."

His eyes widened. He scanned her eyes, nose, lips, chin. "You can't be serious."

She laughed through sobs. Her sleeves wiped in futility at her leaking eyes. "If you think you'll find your freedom with them, then that's where you should go." The words contradicted everything her heart was screaming. "I want you to reach your goal, find your freedom, even if that's not with Fairy Tail. No matter what you choose… I'll still support… you."

"Why?" He stared incredulously at her.

"Because I—" the words lodged themselves in her throat. She looked down, averting her gaze. "You're my friend, and I want you to be happy." It wasn't enough. It wasn't the words she wanted to say, but she couldn't speak the real reason. Especially not now—when he might be planning to walk away.

The atmosphere changed. She felt the switch when she leaned her head back to meet his eyes again. He felt _relieved_. Less afraid. Almost… _content_.

"I know you'll make the right choice, Macbeth." She forced a smile, despite the turmoil in her heart. "I know you'll choose the path to freedom."

She couldn't take it anymore. If she stayed one more moment, she knew her emotions would boil out of control. She wanted to look strong—didn't want him to be burdened by her tears anymore. So, in a moment of inspiration, she lifted her head to press her lips quickly against his forehead, the way she would do when putting Syllest to bed. "I'll leave you alone now." He would need time to think and decide—and she wasn't sure she could stand to sit in his presence while he debated leaving Fairy Tail, and _her_ , behind.

She started to slide off the bed, but was surprised when a hand clutched hers yet again.

"Don't go," he said, voice hoarse with emotion.

She looked back at him, the desperation in his eyes.

"Sleep with me," he commanded. It was the demanding whine of a child.

"I…" She gulped, feeling heat rise to her skin, even though she knew this was a completely innocent request. "Are you sure that won't damage your pride?" She laughed nervously, all the while acutely aware of his grip on her hand.

He stared, not saying a word. It was all written on his face. He was dead serious.

"It's like noon, you know." She sputtered out excuses while her fingers curled around his, without her permission. "I don't sleep all the time like you do."

"Dream…" His whiny voice dropped an octave, sending shivers down her spine. She saw the corner of his lip flicker in the faintest of smirks. He must have been feeling a little bit better to have found the energy to tease her, even if just slightly.

"O-Okay, okay." She laid down on his bed with a sigh, immediately burying her face in the blankets to hide her ungodly blush.

His arms slid around her and he burrowed against her back with a contented sigh. She prayed he wouldn't notice how stiff she was.

"I don't understand you," she whispered after a moment. "Half of the time, you're scarier than almost anyone I've ever met… The other half of the time, you're like this." Adorable. Vulnerable. "How am I ever supposed to relax when you're so unpredictable?"

"Sh." He nuzzled her hair. "I'm tired of talking." His voice suggested he was just tired in general.

"Sorry…" She whispered and tried to get more comfortable, an impossible task with his chest pressed against her, arms wrapped so snugly around her torso.

She listened to the slowing of his breaths. Felt his muscles slowly begin to relax as sleep began to overtake him. Occasionally he would breathe deeply against her hair and sigh. He mumbled sleepily at one point, "Don't leave…"

"I could say the same to you…" she whispered, knowing he wouldn't hear it. As she predicted, he began to snore. And once she knew he was asleep, she allowed herself to succumb to emotion. She cried into the blanket, lost in a cloud of pain and love and sorrow.

 _Please, don't leave, Macbeth. Please choose Fairy Tail. I don't want to lose you either._

Eventually, the tide of her own feelings pulled her into a sleep-state as well. Falling asleep in the arms of an ex-assassin… It was too much to comprehend. So, for the time being, she allowed herself to be in the moment. After all, come tomorrow, he could be gone… This night might be all that she had left, and now that she suspected how she really felt about this man, she refused to let it go to waste.

/

Sometime in the evening there was a rattling knock on the door. The reflector mage and emotion wizard were too deep in sleep to wake to it, however—sharing a dream, a brief lapse of time together.

"MAC! UNLOCK THIS DAMN DOOR!"

Macbeth's snores drowned out the furious dice-wizard.

"I swear to God, Mac, I'm gonna murder you's soon as you open this door!"

It was a good thing Piper had no idea Dreamer was in there with him, or he may have followed through on that promise. Instead, he grumbled a slew of obscenities and stomped off to spend the night in the guild hall.

/

In her dreams, Macbeth stood at her side. The ocean tide tugged at their bare feet. Syllestra ran in the waves. Piper laid on the beach with Cana while Romeo built a sand castle nearby. Jezran passed out lemonade. And chatting on a picnic table were the other members of Oracion Seis, laughing and snacking on mustard sandwiches with a beautiful woman. Her hair was longer than Dreamer's, face more mature. It was Rosy, dressed in the same white dress she was buried in, smiling the same way Dreamer remembered.

It was everything she ever wanted.

His fingers interlaced with hers. They looked toward the sunlit sky, basking in its warmth and hope. It may have been the sweetest dream she'd ever had… But late in the night, it faded away, already lost from her memory—leaving only the lingering sense of warmth. Until, that is, the cold touched her shoulders—the distinct lack of Macbeth's arms around her.

She sat up slowly in the dark. She didn't have to see to know.

He was already gone.


	39. Friends Don't Leave Friends Behind

**Chapter 39: Friends Don't Leave Friends Behind**

Dreamer sat in the guild garden. It was a piece of land tucked behind the hall—small and partially hidden by the property wall. Despite its size and closeness to the building, it felt like its own world. Vines grew along the fence, obscuring the view beyond. Young willows canopied the sky. Tall bushes and flowers helped to give an aura of distance. A white bench sat beside a simple fountain. Up until recently, the fountain hadn't been working, and most of the plants were overgrown. There weren't many people who cared about it. But in the past month or so, someone had been maintaining the garden. The bushes were trimmed, vines cut back, weeds pulled. It even looked like some vegetables had been planted along the west wall.

Bees buzzed peacefully from flower to flower. Two butterflies rested on the head of the fountain to get a drink, sunlight accentuating the patterns on their wings. Birds sang playfully in the branches of the trees, sometimes sending pale leaves down to the ground below. A rose petal rested in her hands, catching a tear that fell, and cradling it like a tiny pink teacup.

She knew it was Macbeth who'd been taking care of the garden. She knew because it was one of the tasks she'd assigned him in his early days at the guild. She could remember the conversation like it was yesterday.

" _Midnight, you really should be doing chores around the guild. It's part of the deal with you staying here."_

" _I already told you and the old man, I'm not serving fairies."_

" _Could you at least take care of the plants in the garden? I don't have time and if someone doesn't do it, they'll die."_

" _Let them die. I don't care."_

But the following day, the gate to the garden had been fixed, and the flowers watered.

Remembering this only served to increase the flow of her tears. She set the flower petal on the bench next to her and looked up at the draping branches of the willow. She couldn't believe he was really gone.

"Hey, watcha doing, Darla?"

Feet thudded on the soil nearby, causing her to jump.

"Natsu?" She rubbed tears out of her eyes so she could see clearly. There was the salamander, crouched on the ground less than five feet away from her. He must have jumped over the fence. "My name's Dreamer, by the way," she sighed. "I'm not sure why no one seems to remember that."

He sat on the bench next to her. She quickly grabbed the flower petal before he could crush it, then gently sat it in the water of the fountain.

"What's up, Dreamer? It looks like you've been crying."

She sniffled slightly and scooted a little farther from him. "I'm fine," she mustered a cheerful smile. "What are you doing here, Natsu?" They didn't often interact much. There was no personal reason, it was just that Dreamer wasn't part of his main group.

"Huh? Oh, me and Happy are playing hide-and-seek!"

She gave a strained laugh, and rolled her eyes. Of course they were. "Well, go ahead and keep playing. I'm just enjoying the sunlight." She kept her perfect smile painted on.

Instead of leaving, Natsu leaned uncomfortably close to her, sniffing the air.

"What's the deal?" She leaned away, the arm of the bench now digging into her side.

"You smell like the sleepy-head."

Her cheeks took some color, and she quickly looked away. She supposed she must have been carrying his scent, after laying in his bed—in his arms—for most of the night. That is… before he disappeared.

She couldn't hold it back anymore...

She burst into sobs.

"W-Whoa, hey!" Natsu jumped ten feet back, flailing his hands. "What did I do?!"

"N-No, it's not you!" She held up her hands, even though the sobs didn't falter in the slightest. "I'm sorry, I just… Macbeth is gone!"

The words hung strangely in the air. The garden seemed quieter—the birds weren't singing.

"What do you mean he's gone?" He relaxed slightly.

"I mean, he… he left Fairy Tail." Her words were broken cries. "The Oracion Seis broke out of prison and Erza told him about it and he left last night to join them, even though he's a member of Fairy Tail now—the Oracion Seis were his friends and family and now he's left to be with them and he'll probably never come back and there's a really good chance I'll… I'll never see him again!"

She shook her head, wiping tears in an act of futility.

"Is that all?"

He didn't sound concerned in the slightest. She couldn't understand the nonchalant attitude. When she looked at Natsu, he was looking at the fountain, arms folded over his chest.

"What do you mean, 'is that all?'" She trembled. "Did you hear me? He's _gone._ "

"That's not true," he didn't miss a beat. He looked at her with a cheery smile, one sharp canine showing. "Come on, Dreamer! You don't actually believe that, do you?"

Her eyes widened. She was trapped in his confident gaze.

"Macbeth's a member of Fairy Tail!" he exclaimed, as if it was all so obvious. "And Fairy Tail members don't turn their backs on their friends."

She looked away with a sigh. "It's not that simple, Natsu… Besides." She watched the flower petal float on the water, still cupping her tear. "He already left. He made up his mind."

"Alright." He held a hand out to her. His expression was determined. "Then let's go."

"Go?"

"Yeah! Let's go get him and bring him home!"

It was clear that he was sincere in this idea.

"But, I don't…"

"Hey, listen, Dreamer." He dropped his hand for a moment, gaze getting even more serious. "Mac probably feels like this is something he's gotta do. All he needs is for someone to beat some sense into him! I bet Gajeel would love to get in on that with me!" He smirked. "Gray, Erza, even Lucy… They've all gone through the same kind of thing."

"Really?" She drank in his words, feeling a spark of something in her chest.

"Yeah. Back when we went to Galuna island, Gray kept trying to kill himself to defeat that demon Delicious or whatever it was called—'D' names are so hard to remember… Anyway, he just forgot that he had friends to live for and he had to be reminded."

She listened in awe. A butterfly landed in his pink hair, but he didn't notice.

"And Lucy went back home, because she felt like she had to tell her dad she was going to stay with Fairy Tail! She shoulda told us and we'd have gone with her!

"Then there was Erza, and she tried to sacrifice herself in the Tower of Heaven and I had to stop her."

The butterfly fluttered away.

"Everybody has stuff they think they gotta do," he said, clenching a fist. "We can't let 'em forget that they have friends to help them! So, he thinks he has to see his old friends, big deal! He can pay 'em a visit and then come back home to Fairy Tail! And if they really want to be his friends, they can join Fairy Tail, too!"

"Do you know what you're saying?" _All_ of the Oracion Seis in Fairy Tail? It was absurd!

"What I'm saying is that Mac needs his friends, right now. So," he offered up his hand again, "are we gonna go get him or what?"

She gaped at him, hardly believing her ears. "I don't understand… Natsu, not long ago he was trying to kill you and your friends on Nirvana. Why are you doing this for him?"

"Aren't you listening? Geez," he sighed. "I don't care about all that stuff. Macbeth's one of us, that makes him family. And I'm not going to let a member of Fairy Tail go off and make some stupid mistake like joining another guild! I'm gonna beat the crap out of him until he remembers he's one of _us_!"

She giggled in between tears, at the contradiction between calling someone family and also wanting to 'beat the crap' out of them. Finally, she gave a brief nod and took his hand. He pulled her up off the bench.

"Okay… Let's bring our friend back home."

She wanted to believe that it would be that easy. She wanted the same hope and confidence that she felt radiating from Natsu. Maybe the fire dragon-slayer was right. Maybe letting Macbeth go wasn't something she _had_ to do… And she didn't want to either. She wanted him to stay at Fairy Tail and find his freedom here with them—with her. She wanted to tell him how she felt, or… well, at least that she cared.

As Natsu led her out of the garden, she found herself wondering what she would do if he chose to stay with the Oracion Seis, even after they went to bring him back. No… She shook her head fiercely. He _would_ come back. She needed to believe in him. The Macbeth she had grown to love was good, he was loyal, he cared and wanted to protect his friends. He would never return to a life of assassinations and darkness—a life of fear and rage.

She—and the rest of Fairy Tail—wouldn't let him.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks everyone, for your continued support and reviews! Special thanks to those who have commented on my writing abilities and suggested that I work on my own original work. That's such amazing praise to receive!**

 **Cheezy, I am horribly sorry I made you cry on your birthday, but, in my defense, all the signs pointed to the fact that the chapter was going to be heart-wrenching, and you chose to read on anyway. Tis the risk you take. ;)**

 **Simana, yes, Midnight's memories were intended to be reminiscent of Ultear's stay under Zero. I think it's safe to assume that the members of the Oracion Seis were held there at a certain point in their lives, as well. I always figured they were subjected to cruel experiments, and obviously they were groomed into seeing Zero/Brain as something of a god or ultimate authority figure.**

 **If anyone else has birthdays coming up, I recommend holding off on reading this fic. This isn't a very cheery portion of the story. There, now I've warned you ahead of time. xD**


	40. One of Us

**Chapter 40: One of Us**

Macbeth's feet led him. He wandered through the forest, along the base of the mountains. Somehow, he knew his path would lead him straight to the Oracion Seis. It might have been the fact that they'd all once been connected by the spell that bound Zero to Brain, or it might have been that they'd been connected far before that, by the Tower of Heaven. Either way, they'd always been drawn to each other—connected by an invisible force. He knew for this reason, that his instincts would lead him straight to his old friends.

And as the sun was lowering in the sky, that's exactly what they did.

He could sense a familiar mingling of magical energy nearby, as he reached a plateau on the rocky hills he'd been navigating. He stood there, waiting. A strong breeze tousled his hair and made the length of his cloak and scarf flutter in the wind. He ignored the chill, eyes focused ahead, on the far end of the plateau, where he knew they would crest.

Several minutes went by before their shapes began to rise.

Erik led them. The man dubbed "Cobra." Reddish hair spiked upward, revealing pointed ears. Tan skin and beady, narrowed eyes. He walked nonchalantly, hands in the pockets of his red pants.

To his right was Sorano. "Angel." She still wore a feathered dress, collar dipping low on her stomach to reveal excessive cleavage. Her short white hair sported a signature cowlick in the shape of a halo.

On the left was Sawyer, also known as "Racer." His features sharp, all the way from his spiked hair, to his sharp eyebrows, to his pointed nose.

It was only the three of them. Their expressions were guarded as they looked at Macbeth from across the space on the rocky plateau. They approached slowly, keeping some distance from him.

For a long moment, the four of them were silent. Wind whipped between them. No one moved.

Finally…

"No. Zero's not with us." Erik echoed the thought that was ringing through Macbeth's mind. A wave of relief washed over him at these words, enough to make him tremble.

"We haven't seen him since before we were captured," Sorano said.

"And Richard?" He asked, red eyes flickering at the three of them.

"Hoteye heard that his brother was safe and he went to find him as soon as we got out," Erik said. "I hate to disappoint, but it's just us."

He gave a brief nod. Another tense silence ensued. Sorano took a cautious step forward, extending her arms. "Midnight…"

"Don't." Erik warned her, grimacing slightly. "You don't want to piss him off."

She looked nervous. All of them did. And it wasn't surprising. When Zero had raised them, he'd made it clear who their superior was. He'd forced their bond of friendship apart in favor for a hierarchy, where Midnight was far above them in rank. The dynamic between them had become one of quiet fear, where they knew better than to trifle with the sleeping demon.

But Zero wasn't here now. And Macbeth was Midnight no longer.

"Let her come," he said quietly. He opened his own arms, gloved hands extended in welcome to her. The smile that filled her face was nothing short of child-like glee.

She closed the distance and threw her arms around him. The touch was jarring, but not completely unwanted.

"You're safe," she said, happily. Her feathered collar tickled his nose.

In a flash, Sawyer was at his side as well, joining in the squeezing embrace. "We were afraid Zero found you and killed you," his voice shook with emotion.

"Stop acting like babies, you two," Erik chastised them, though he too was approaching. When Sorano and Sawyer finally released Macbeth, he stood facing the dragon-slayer. Wordlessly, Erik stepped forward and gave him a half-hug, patting his back in the process before stepping back. "It's good to see you again." Something about his voice was bitter, his expression darker than Macbeth remembered it being.

It was then that he noticed another face was lacking. The snake that could always be found wrapped around Erik's neck was missing.

 _Cubellios?_ He thought.

"She's gone," Erik said curtly. He turned away, the bitter scowl etched permanently on his face. "We were separated when the Magic Council captured us."

Macbeth said nothing.

"Let's get out of the wind," Sorano suggested, as another gust ruffled the feathers of her dress.

The group silently descended the edge of the plateau and walked until they reached a small valley, deep enough to close them off from the unfriendly breeze. They sat in a staggered circle on the rocks, facing each other. Sawyer worked on a fire between them, since the sun had disappeared behind the hills.

"Is it true you were captured by Fairy Tail?" Sorano asked, breaking the silence once more.

He didn't answer for a moment. "Yes."

"How many of them did you take out when you broke out of there?" Sawyer asked with a smirk while he crouched by the growing fire.

Macbeth didn't answer. He looked mindlessly into the flames.

"Let's talk business," Erik said, suddenly. He cast his narrowed gaze on Macbeth. "Zero is gone. Brain doesn't exist. We need a new master."

Macbeth met his eyes, lips in a thin line.

"I think it goes without saying that you should be our leader."

Sorano nodded. Sawyer "hmph'ed in agreement as he tossed one more stick on the fire.

"Me?" He couldn't withhold a scoff. "You can't be serious."

"It's no secret you're the strongest out of the four of us," Erik continued. "And probably the only one qualified to find two new members."

Macbeth looked away, back into the fire. "Strongest?" He gave a dry laugh. "Did you forget? I was beaten by Erza at Nirvana."

"An S-rank, wizard-saint-status mage," Erik said. "That's a hell of a lot better than being beaten by a brainless fire dragon-slayer."

"Or a blonde bimbo."

"Or two slow ice-makers."

Their faces flashed in Macbeth's mind. He thought of Erza's smiles of approval each time he presented her a new cake. He thought of Natsu's continual attempts to lure him into battle. Lucy clapping from the audience after a performance. Gray putting ice in a glass of water for him while he worked in the garden.

He crossed his legs and leaned back on the rock he sat on, carefully guarding his emotions, and even more carefully guarding his thoughts. He didn't have to look at Erik to know the dragon-slayer was listening intently to his every breath, his every heartbeat.

"Richard," he said suddenly. "Are you angry that he left?"

The three assassins looked startled by the question. It was Erik who answered.

"Why would we be?" It was as if the answer were obvious.

"His prayer was answered by the angels," Sorano gazed up at the star-speckled sky.

"Yeah." Sawyer sat criss-cross in front of the fire, the glow making his eyebrows look even more yellow. "We've all been looking for freedom ever since the tower. It would be pretty low to be pissed at the guy for running after his."

A sense of sorrow fell on the group. It seemed Richard had found a path toward freedom, toward having his prayer answered. Sorano, Sawyer, and Erik were despondent, each of them craving their own sense of hope.

But Macbeth…

His prayer was to have a night of peace. A quiet place where he could sleep without nightmares for once. One sweet dream.

That prayer had been answered for him. And as for freedom… He still didn't understand what freedom was. Not really. But during his time with Fairy Tail, he thought he'd been closer to it than ever before… As his gaze bounced between his old comrades gathered around the fire, the conflict tore him once more.

"I can't blame him." Erik lowered his head and closed his eyes. "He's looking for the one person who matters more to him than anyone else in the world." He grimaced. "I bet he'd do anything to hear his brother's voice again. Like I'd do anything to be with Cubellios…"

The fire crackled.

"We'll find her, Cobra." Sorano said. "We need only pray to the angels for guidance."

"Not everyone believes in that angel crap you know," Sawyer pointed out.

"Believe it or not, we are blessed." She held her fingers to her heart. "The angels set us free from a life of captivity, and placed us directly into the hands of our future. A world darkened by destruction, where—from the ashes—a new world can begin. A paradise. Heaven."

Her words caught Macbeth's attention. She spoke of this "paradise" as if it were within their reach. It was the same way she spoke about Nirvana when it was close to being unleashed. A thought suddenly occurred to him.

"If Zero didn't break you out of prison, did you escape on your own?"

"It was our new employer." Sawyer prodded the fire with a stick.

"New employer?"

"Yeah." Erik folded his arms. "He was impressed by our record and liked what we were trying to accomplish at Nirvana. So, he busted us out and hired us to take care of some things while he works on something. I don't really care who he is or what he's doing. It's a job. It's just something to keep us going." There was no hope in his voice. "Nothing matters long as I keep looking for her."

"I think he was sent to us," Sorano said, confidently. "To deliver our freedom."

Macbeth's eyes narrowed. They reflected the glow of the fire, looking like embers that belonged in the ash.

"Who is this employer?"

There was a pause. Then casually,

"He calls himself the King of Diamonds."

Macbeth's heart jumped. He reflexively clutched his scarf tightly, while his eyes widened.

 _Resmond._

Erik's ear perked. He cut a glance at Macbeth. "You know the guy?"

He stood. His fingers rose to the dreamcatcher resting against his chest, made from pink diamond. He looked at the confused faces of his old friends. There was a sudden realization that he'd made a grave mistake.

He remembered the snake-woman Giseld. She'd known of him, which meant that Resmond knew of him. Resmond knew that an ex-member of the Oracion Seis was protecting Syllest and Dreamer. It was clear that he was hunting them. Now, he'd broken the Oracion Seis out of prison.

Resmond broke them out knowing Macbeth would go to them and leave Dreamer and Syllest vulnerable. He could be there, right now, making his move. Macbeth had put them in danger.

He turned on the heels of his boots and began to walk away.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Erik stood up and called after him, his teeth bared.

Macbeth didn't stop walking.

"Racer!" Erik shouted. The sharp-nosed wizard was in front of Macbeth in an instant, blocking his path.

"Move." Macbeth narrowed his eyes.

"I knew you were acting strange," Erik said darkly as he walked up from behind him. "One mention of the King and you're on the run?"

"What's he thinking, Cobra?" Sorano asked.

"I don't know," Erik scowled. "He's protecting his thoughts with dark magic. I can't hear them. What are you hiding, Midnight?"

"Sawyer, move." Macbeth commanded again. "Don't make me hurt you."

Sawyer swallowed, nervously, but stood his ground. "Sorry, Midnight. The King said we're only going to get freedom if you're a part of this. I can't risk losing it again."

Macbeth raised a hand and summoned forth a dark energy. He wouldn't hesitate to thrust his friend out of the way, if it meant getting back to them. He was a fool for leaving.

Distracted by the confrontation with Sawyer, Macbeth didn't notice Erik was right behind him until his sharp nails grasped the collar of his coat. He swung around, tearing away from the grip. He jumped back and faced the poison dragon-slayer, who now stood with his coat clutched in one hand.

"It's true." His beady eyes traveled to Macbeth's shoulder. "I didn't believe it when I heard it, but there's the proof."

Macbeth didn't flinch. He kept his head held high, eyes level with Erik's, though he knew every other eye in the area was now trained on the dark pink Fairy Tail emblem emblazoned on his skin.

"Traitor…" Sawyer hissed at the sight of it.

"How could you?" Sorano took an offensive stance, her slanted eyes narrowing harshly.

Macbeth faced Erik, unyielding. "Call them off, Erik," he said, in a low threat. "I don't want to waste my time here."

But Erik's face was hard with rage. "First, I lose Cubellios… Then Hoteye walks out on us, and now _this_?" He bared his claws. "You want me to let you go so you can run back to your new Fairy family? That's not going to happen."

"Erik. Don't make me kill you."

"The name's Cobra." He and the other three members of the Oracion Seis barred him in. "And I'm bringing you back with us, even if that means I have to put you to sleep first."

"Be a good boy and take a nap on your rug," Sorano said, her voice now mocking and tainted with the pain of betrayal.

"You're one of _us_ ," Sawyer said.

Macbeth drew forth his magical energy and continued to face off against Erik. "I don't have time to play with you," he hissed.

"Then let's get this over with quickly."

Under the light of a full moon that had just begun to creep across the sky, a broken guild prepared to deepen the wounds between its members. At the center of the conflict, circled by old friends and new enemies—stood a man with the Oracion Seis symbol on one shoulder, and the mark of Fairy Tail on the other.

 _One of us_ , cried the Oracion Seis.

 _One of us_ , cried Fairy Tail.

Tonight, the choice would be sealed.


	41. Peace

**Chapter 41: Peace**

Erik wasted no time. He lunged forward, hand clenched in a fist. The air surrounding Macbeth distorted as he used his reflector magic to avoid the punch, causing the dragon-slayer to go right though him.

Expecting this, Erik easily caught his balance and swung his leg around to Macbeth's side. He moved with expert speed, throwing punch after punch. Macbeth was just as fast, successfully countering every hit with either reflector magic or a dodge.

The two knew each other's fighting styles by heart. In the base where Brain had raised them, experimented on them, and trained them, the two boys had been forced to spar frequently—to test their strength on one another.

"You're holding back!" Erik shouted and swung toward his face. Macbeth's hair swayed as he tilted his head slightly to avoid the hit. "Too good to fight me now, Fairy?"

Erik went to hit again, but this time there was a whirring sound in response as an invisible force knocked him back, through the air. He landed on his feet, skidding back on the rocks.

"That's more like it…" He crossed his arms in front of him and a purple mist began to rise from his skin. His arms took on their dragon-slayer appearance, purple scales and sharp, poisonous claws.

Macbeth narrowed his eyes. "You would really use your poison on me?"

"It won't kill you," came the reply, as Erik cracked his knuckles. "But it might put you in your place."

Without another word, he charged again. Macbeth dodged his poisoned claws and reflected the poisonous force back at his opponent. Of course, being hit by poison did nothing to the dragon slayer, who simply continued his onslaught of attacks.

"Poison dragon scales!" He swung his arms, slinging a barrage of poison scales at Macbeth. A shield shot them all back. Poison smashed into the rock all around Erik, melting stone like acid.

"I can hear your thoughts now," Erik said. He wasn't even out of breath. Neither of them were. "You can't protect them and fight at the same time, can you? No, you were never very good at multitasking with your magic."

Macbeth shot blades of invisible reflector magic toward him, marked only by the whirring sound of his magic and the air splitting. Erik countered with his Poison Dragon Fang Thrust, creating a snake head out of poison that bit down on the invisible attack, protecting him.

" _Dreamer, Dreamer, Dreamer,_ " Erik mocked. "Is that all you can think about?"

Macbeth's eyebrow twitched in irritation. "I am losing my patience." He lifted a finger toward Erik as if gesturing him forward. The other man recognized the attack too late. He leapt into the air but was caught in a distorted vortex. "Spiral Pain!"

"Cobra!" Sorano took a step forward as Erik cried out, the pain shredding through his body.

When the vortex dropped Erik, his body was already beginning to form bruises. He stood with a grimace, baring a fang. He was still listening to Macbeth, eyes narrowed.

"You mean to tell me that you joined Fairy Tail for some girl?" He wielded his poison cloaked hands again.

"A girl?" Sawyer laughed from the sidelines, where he seemed to be enjoying the show. "Here I thought he was gay this whole time."

Macbeth's face was void of emotion.

"Dreamer. Syllestra. You've got to protect them? Don't make me laugh." Erik threw his head back in a degrading chuckle. "Since when did the infamous Night Terror start looking after little girls and useless wizards?"

Macbeth put his hands in his pockets and turned his back on Erik once more, starting to leave the clearing.

"Racer!"

Sawyer was in front of him in an instant. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Back to his fairies," Sorano taunted.

"What's wrong, Midnight?" Erik called out. "Why haven't you used Nightmare on us yet? You think you're better than us now? You took the high road, abandoned your old friends to join a legal joke of a guild?"

Macbeth closed his eyes and released a slow sigh. "Fools."

"What was that?" Erik asked, though he heard it loud and clear.

"Have you not realized that Brain was using us? He abandoned us when we were captured, and now, when you have the opportunity to pursue freedom away from his bounds, you choose instead to imprison yourselves once more, under the reign of this King of Diamonds." He looked over his shoulder at his old friend. "You have no idea what true freedom is."

"And you do?" Sorano hissed and took another step toward him.

"No." His voice was even, gaze still cast on the poison dragon-slayer. "But I do know that freedom doesn't come from being a slave to men like Zero and Resmond."

"We're not slaves!" Sorano's voice became desperate, her body trembling. "The King will set us free! We'll become angels!"

"He's using you the same way Father…" the word caught in his throat. "The same way _Zero_ used us all. There is only one thing Resmond wants. He's already manipulated you into trying to capture me."

"LIAR!"

Sorano lifted her hands toward the dark sky. "I call upon you, brilliant light of the heavens!"

Erik and Sawyer shared a look and then a nod. "I'm ready, Angel!" Sawyer shouted.

A sparkling light began to glow in between Sorano's palms. This was a power Macbeth had never seen before. He was unaware that she knew anything but celestial magic. But, he remembered that Lucy now owned the keys she once had, so it was likely Sorano had begun learning a new magic since she'd escaped captivity.

She thrust the sparkling light into the air around her. It coated the surrounding area in a bright light that settled on Sawyer, who was tensed in a running position. A blinding white light wrapped around him, and he ran.

Macbeth braced for an attack, fully expecting him to run at him. Instead, he ran in a tight circle around Macbeth and Erik. The flashes of blinding light made it impossible for Macbeth to see Erik move. The other man was unaffected by the light however. He merely closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Macbeth's breathing, allowing sound to be his guide.

Unable to focus to use his reflector magic effectively, Macbeth took a hard punch to the jaw. He staggered back and was hit again by a kick to the side. He cried out in pain when poison soaked claws raked across his back. He closed his eyes and willed his magical energy to create a shield of reflector magic around him, but Erik was already in his guard. Another punch to the face. A kick to the thigh that brought him to his knees.

Already, he could feel Erik's poison taking affect. His body was feeling numb and sluggish. Erik was right, the poison wouldn't kill him like it would most targets—due to all the time they'd spent sparring each other, and the immunity he'd built over the years to Erik's magic. But it would incapacitate him, paralyze and knock him unconscious.

Erik's hand closed around Macbeth's collar and he lifted him back to his feet, their faces only inches apart. Erik's face did not show victory or excitement. Instead, his purple irises reflected only sorrow and bitterness.

"You think you're good now, Macbeth?" he hissed. "After everything we've done with the Oracion Seis? You think you can just let that all go—that you can be some kind of hero?"

Macbeth met his eyes evenly. For once, he felt no fear. His voice was calm and unbroken, despite the pain of Erik's poison creeping through his veins. Erik could hear it—the calm beating of his heart, the sound of a soul unaffected by terror—a soul that didn't sound at all like the one he used to hear, crying out at night, begging for relief, for freedom.

"You're wrong," Macbeth said, quietly. "I suffer under no such delusion." Red eyes unwavering. "I will never be 'good.' But now I have the freedom to be better than I once was."

Erik's eyes widened, lips parted in surprise. He stared at the pale face of his old friend and comrade, hands trembling on his collar now. His scales retracted and the poison mist began to fade.

"I'm not letting you go back to Fairy Tail," he said, his voice low and pained. "Angel's right. This guy, Resmond, he knows what he's doing. And he promised—"

"That you'll see Cubellios again?"

Erik gritted his teeth. "That's right. And that's all I care about. So, just let go."

"No, _you_ let go."

Erik leaned back in surprise. He'd been so distracted by his own anger that he hadn't even heard them approach. The scene around him and Macbeth had changed dramatically.

The white light was gone. A hand covered Sorano's mouth. Sawyer was no longer running—he was asleep at the feet of a woman holding a vial of strange pills. It was this woman who had spoken.

She stood resolutely, a sharp glare focused on Erik—a glare unbefitting of her oversized, blossom-pink eyes. Tears sparkled on her eyelashes, but her expression was firm, cream hair fluttering in the wind, brushing against her cheeks.

"Let him go," she repeated.

A man with blue hair held his hand over Sorano's mouth, but that wasn't all. Coming down the slope of the valley to surround them, was an entire group of fairies. Natsu, the salamander, fire enveloping his fists. Titania Erza, equipped with two blades, in an action stance. The She-Devil, Mirajane. The celestial wizard who bested Angel at Nirvana. A small woman with sky-blue hair standing beside the iron-dragon slayer. A shirtless woman with a flask in her hand, wearing little more than a blue bra. There were others, every member of Fairy Tail whose life Macbeth had touched in some way.

"You's better listen to the lady," the blue-haired man holding Sorano said. "You mess with one member of Team Derelict Heart, you's mess with all of us."

Macbeth looked at the group of them in just as much shock as Erik.

 _Piper?_

"If you mess with one member of _Fairy Tail,_ you mess with all of us." Even their master was there, stepping forward through the crowd with a smile on his face. "How are you doing, Macbeth?"

"I'm ready for a nap," Macbeth answered, managing a slight smirk, though his body went more limp in Erik's grasp, eyes struggling to remain open.

Erik let him drop to the ground, his own shoulders heaving as he caught his breath and tried to slow his heartbeat. The overwhelming sound of all their voices filled his head.

 _I'm gonna kick your ass, snake bastard._

 _Oooh, just let him try to fight back! I'm fired up!_

 _Macbeth… You have grown strong, after all._

 _Do what you know is right, release our friend._

 _Don't mess with Fairy Tail._

 _I love him._

His eyes rested on the girl standing closest to him, her fists curled, the eyes a swirling pink. He found himself caught in them, a strange nostalgia filling him. He was beginning to feel _calm_ , even… _hopeful_. He hadn't felt this way since he'd met Cubellios in the Tower of Heaven. His best friend… She'd always made him feel safe and strong.

He missed her.

 _Who is he? Why does he seem so familiar to me?_

A new voice made his heart stop. He froze, pupils retracting.

 _I felt like I should come with everyone… I don't know why, but it felt important. And now… That man. I feel strange…_

He stood straight, trembling. His eyes scanned the faces.

 _Is he the one who's been calling me? In my dreams?_

"Cu… Cubellios?" Erik's eyes rested on a woman in the crowd. A woman with purple hair and a green dress. She was not the snake he'd grown up with—the one he'd known and loved, but… her voice… her _soul._

The woman stepped forward to stand beside the one with cream hair.

"Who are you?" she asked out loud.

He instinctively took a step toward her, leaving Macbeth forgotten and slumped on the ground. Sensing that he no longer had any intention to fight, Dreamer ran past Erik and to Macbeth's side.

"Macbeth?" She scooped his head into her lap and brushed a black curl away from his eyes.

"Dream…" he whispered sleepily, some pain coloring his expression.

"I'm here," she cried. "And… I just wanted to say… I don't want you to leave Fairy Tail! I think your freedom is here, with us! I shouldn't have told you it was okay to go back to the Oracion Seis, because it's not! I… I want you to stay! You're one of us, and… I… I don't want you to leave me…"

"Sh." His eyelashes fluttered. "Did anyone ever tell you… you talk too much?"

She laughed through tears and leaned to plant a kiss on his forehead. "You tell me all the time."

"Let me help!" Wendy rushed to Macbeth's side and placed her hands on his back, where the poison claws had struck.

"Syllest…" he said, looking at Dreamer's eyes. "Is she safe?"

"Yes. Jezran came home. She's with him and Gray, hidden in a safe place."

"Resmond—" he started.

"We'll talk about it when we get you home." She stroked his hair while Wendy healed him.

Meanwhile, now standing face to face were Erik and Kinana.

"Who are you?" she asked again, her voice quiet and awed.

"…Erik. My name is Erik." He searched her eyes. He could hear her confusion and knew that she didn't remember him. But Cubellios was still in there. Still calling out to him.

"I think it's time to go home," Makarov's voice echoed out. "Piper, Natsu, Gajeel, would you do the honors of carrying our guests, and our fallen friend, back to the guild?"

"You got it, gramps." Gajeel joined Wendy at Macbeth's side. Once she had successfully removed the poison, and Macbeth's eyelids had officially closed, Gajeel scooped him into his arms. "What were you thinkin,' Beth? You forget we have practice tomorrow?" He grumbled under his breath while he carted the man toward the valley slope. Dreamer walked immediately beside him, stopping only to pick up the discarded coat on the rocky ground.

Piper bound Sorano's wrists and nudged her forward to follow. She hung her head in the shame of defeat, but did not resist.

Natsu roughly picked up the sleeping Sawyer, while complaining about the fact that they'd shown up late for the action, and he'd still have to have a chance at Erik.

And as for Erik, he more than willingly walked beside Kinana, back toward Fairy Tail.

The situation had been strangely diffused. What had appeared to be the beginning of a rift between old friends—a struggle between light and dark, had ended with the dark members of Oracion Seis walking calmly with Fairy Tail, blending in to the group of them.

Good and evil, friend and enemy, past and present, all seemed to meld together for the time being—molded as one by the soothing magic of Dreamer's presence, which released all tension in the air. At least for the time being…

There was _peace._


	42. Choose Freedom!

**Chapter 42: Choose Freedom!**

 **The Fairy Tail Guild Hall:**

Dreamer brushed a strand of white hair off of Macbeth's cheek. She leaned back with a smile when he opened his eyes at her touch.

They were in the guild infirmary, where she'd spent quite a deal of time not long ago. Macbeth was laying on the same bed that had housed her, while across from him, in another hospital bed, Sawyer—aka Racer—was still asleep. In the room also, were Wendy, Carla, Jezran, and little Syllestra.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

He sat up straight. "Fine," came the simple reply.

"Really?" She grinned at Wendy. "You're really amazing, you know? Poisoned and cured all in one night!"

Wendy put her hands up defensively, to deflect the compliment. "N-no, no! I-I hardly did anything! He already had an immunity to the poison so… all I did was speed up the process a little!"

"Oh child," Carla sighed and patted Wendy's hand. "Do learn to take a compliment, will you?"

Wendy blushed and twisted her hands awkwardly in her lap.

"Macbeth?" Syllest spoke now, halfway leaning on the bed opposite side of Dreamer. "Were you really going to run away?" Her pink eyes were narrowed. Accusing.

He looked at her, eyes slightly widened.

"Don't ask him questions right now, sweetie," Dreamer said, though the same question still rang in her own head. She still didn't know what Macbeth would choose in the end.

Sawyer stirred and began to sit up as well. He rubbed his eyes and adjusted to the sight before him. "If it isn't the traitor." He glared at Macbeth.

"Hey! Shut up, pointy!" Syllest threw a pillow at him. "Don't talk to my Macbeth like that!"

Jezran, Carla, Wendy, and Dreamer all chuckled. Macbeth gazed expressionlessly at Sawyer.

" _Your_ Macbeth?" Sawyer gaped at her. He gave a halfhearted scoff and looked away. "You really are one of them now, aren't you?"

Macbeth stared evenly at him.

"Yes."

This one word elicited a gasp from Dreamer. She clutched her hands over her heart. Did this mean he really had chosen Fairy Tail?

Sawyer's lip trembled in a discouraged frown. "I guess I can't fault you for it," he said, to everyone's surprise. "I wouldn't want you and Cobra and Angel hating me if I finally got to run free…"

His words hung in the air for a moment.

"Sawyer," Macbeth said. "Tell me what you know about Resmond."

He shot his eyes at Macbeth, surprised at the bold change of subject. Jezran tensed.

"Who's Resmond?" Syllest asked, innocently.

"No one," Dreamer answered, quickly. She gave Macbeth a death glare. "It's grown up business. Business that doesn't need to be talked about in front of children." The glare intensified. Macbeth actually shrunk back slightly.

"I'm not a stupid kid, Mom!" she protested. Her little lips formed an adorable pout. "I'm a wizard too!"

"No, you're _not_." Dreamer started to raise her voice, but then swallowed hard when Macbeth's hand clutched hers.

"Erik," he said, simply, scanning her face.

"Oh, right." She nodded, successfully distracted. "He and… um, what's her—"

"Sorano."

"Right," she nodded. "He and Sorano are in the guild hall with Master. They were waiting for you two to wake up before we could discuss what happens next."

He released her hand and began to slide off the bed. "Sawyer. Come."

Wordlessly obedient, as if accustomed to receiving orders from the dual-haired mage, Sawyer got up as well, to follow Macbeth out of the room. Dreamer stepped quickly after them, and Syllest moved to follow. Jezran placed a wrinkled hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Let me go!" She pulled hard away from him. "I want to know what happens next, too!"

"Dear me, sweet child." He shook his head. "It is as your mother says, dear me. This is no place for a young one to—"

"That's not _fair!_ " She stomped a foot in protest. "You guys keep leaving me out of everything! I'm not a baby! Macbeth is my friend too! I love him and I want to protect him just like you do!"

In the doorway, Macbeth paused, for the briefest of an instant, before walking out.

"Syllest, please…" Dreamer looked back at her with an exhausted sigh. "Just for tonight… Don't argue about this. Please."

Jezran squeezed the girl's shoulder. She glared at Dreamer and finally threw herself onto the hospital bed Macbeth had been laying on. She pulled a pillow over her head and screamed.

Dreamer watched her for only a moment before she followed Macbeth and Sawyer into the hall.

/

"Hit or stay?"

There was still quite a bit of activity in the guild hall, despite the hour. Piper sat at a table, cards out in front of him, dealing to a group of players including Cana and Sorano. The Oracion Seis member looked like she would rather be anywhere else than here, but since her ankles were tied tightly with rope, she wasn't really going anywhere.

"Stay…" she mumbled, casting her slanted eyes angrily away from him.

"Playing it safe, eh doll?" He winked at her. Her scowl only deepened.

Cana tapped her finger on the table for another card. "Hit me, Piper," she slurred.

"You's got it." He grinned. He placed a card down in front of her. "That's my girl! The risk is always worth the reward, ain't it?" He slid two chips to her.

"Wooo! That's right!" She took a long chug of beer and then stuck her tongue out at Sorano.

"Excuse me?" The tan-skinned wizard scowled in disgust at her.

"I'm playing to…" *hic* "…win, _doll_."

Piper raised an amused eyebrow. "You doin' okay, Cana? Lookin' a little more flushed than usual."

"Royally flushed!" She laughed out loud and nearly fell off the bench. "I'm great, babe. Let's keep playing!"

"Babe?" Piper laughed out loud and shrugged before continuing to deal. "Whatever you's say, doll."

/

Not far from the drunks, gamblers, and fugitive, a man and woman sat side by side on the edge of the stage. The man was tan-skinned, with spiky maroon hair and equally sharp ears. The woman was young, with short purple hair, plump cheeks, and a chubby form. Both of them looked to be in a daze, occasionally glancing at one another, sitting close enough for their arms to touch, but with a million miles in the space between them.

"So… We really grew up together?" she asked, quietly. Kinana was still trying to wrap her head around everything Erik had just told her. "And I was a snake that whole time?"

He gave a brisk nod. "Your name is Cubellios. We're… We were best friends."

She looked down, her eyes lingering on his hand beside her thigh. Outlining the strong shape of his fingers, his claws. Everything about him was familiar. Nostalgic. "I'm sorry, Erik…" She felt a tear slide down her cheek. "I don't remember…"

"Hey," he looked at her, "don't apologize." He reached up to cup her face in his hand, a thumb shooing away the stray tear. "I don't really care if you remember or not," he said, somewhat roughly. "All that matters is that I get to hear your voice again, Cubellios."

She blushed, his touch making her feel a strong wave of nostalgia. It was as if, in a distant life, she knew what it felt like to have her cheek stroked, head pat, wrapped around this man. But this was different.

"I'm not Cubellios," she said, in barely a whisper. "I'm Kinana. I don't even look like your snake friend. At least, not anymore…" She still had no idea what happened. Why she was a snake in the first place. Why she was in the tower of heaven. She understood now that somehow, she'd transformed into a human after she was separated from Erik at Nirvana. Then Master Makarov had found her and taken her in.

"I don't care," he reiterated, baring a fang. "I don't care if you go by Cubellios or Kinana, or if you look like a snake or you look like this. I can hear your voice again." Passion burned in his dark eyes. "That's all that matters to me. That's all that has ever mattered to me."

She couldn't hold a gaze that intense for long. She looked away awkwardly, but then rested her head against his arm. "I'm glad we're reunited, Erik," she said quietly. "Even if I don't remember everything. I think… I missed your voice too."

He was about to respond when figures emerged from a doorway to the right of them. The first to walk through was the tall, ever composed figure of Macbeth. He showed absolutely no signs of having suffered from Erik's poison, which brought a smirk to Erik's lips. As resilient as always, it seemed.

Sawyer came soon after, hands in his pockets. He was adjusting his goggles and frowning as if in defeat.

After him came the girl with pink eyes. The one whose name he'd heard repeated over and over in Macbeth's head. The girl who somehow, had changed the reflector-mage's inner voice.

Master Makarov saw them walk in, and jumped off the bar to meet them. He wasted no time in getting everyone's attention.

"Gather around," he climbed on a table and gestured at the benches. "We need to discuss the issues at hand at once."

Erik and Kinana slid off the stage and walked together to sit at the table. Piper collected and put away his cards before untying the ropes around Sorano's ankles and tugging her by the arm to a bench. Drunk and/or curious, Cana followed as well. Sawyer took a seat next to Erik, but Macbeth remained standing with Dreamer at his side.

"Ordinarily, as Master of Fairy Tail, a legal guild associated with and supervised by the Magic Council, it would be my responsibility to turn you in," Makarov immediately addressed the active members of Oracion Seis. "But…" he looked at Macbeth, "there are some extenuating circumstances here."

"You could always just turn 'em all in," Piper muttered, with a glance at Macbeth. His tone was more taunting than hateful, however.

Makarov folded his arms over his chest under the white cloak he wore. He regarded Macbeth with a hard expression.

"My boy," he started. "As far as I am concerned, you are my son. Regardless of the connections you have had in the past and regardless of your past choices. That being said…" He closed his eyes, the wrinkles weighing heavily on his brow. "I will not fault you if you choose to return to the family you knew before Fairy Tail. Even if you choose to leave us, you will always be a friend to this guild."

Macbeth's eyes were closed, posture rigid.

"That choice must be made now, Macbeth," Makarov continued. "After tonight, the Oracion Seis will not be welcome here in Magnolia. If you choose to join them, that will include you."

All eyes were on him. Dreamer resisted the urge to hold his hand, to beg him to stay. Instead, she clasped her hands in front of herself and prayed that he would choose Fairy Tail.

Finally, he opened his eyes. His gaze fell on Erik, who gave him a slight nod, having heard his thoughts.

"Erik, Sorano, Sawyer," he said. His black lips were a thin line, his expression unreadable. "Despite the hell we have endured, I've always relied on the bonds between us."

Sawyer looked away, a scowl painted underneath his pointed nose. He rubbed an eye. Sorano avoided Macbeth's piercing red eyes as well. Erik, however, continued to stare evenly at him.

Macbeth opened his arms, gloved hands open toward the ceiling. "When we formed the Oracion Seis under Brain, we sought two things." There was a strange power in his tone—a leadership instilled in him under the tutelage of his old "father." "We wanted freedom, and we wanted our prayers answered." The fingers on his right hand curled into a fist. "These desires kept us together."

There was a "thud" on the bench as Gajeel joined them, guitar in hand.

"Freedom…" Macbeth scoffed, bitterly. "I'm not even sure the concept exists in this world." His left hand dropped. His right moved to the fur scarf he wore. "But, as for our prayers…"

Gajeel strummed his acoustic guitar quietly, creating a background ambience to suit the mood.

"Brain's prayer was to conceal the power of Zero, and that prayer was shattered at Nirvana." He stroked the fur of the scarf, his expression remained firm. "Richard's prayer was to find his brother. That prayer was granted to him." His fingers traveled below the scarf, to the handmade, pink-diamond dream catcher he wore. "My prayer… was to find a quiet place where I could sleep in peace. I prayed for one night without nightmares—one sweet dream." His thumb traced the rim of the dream catcher. He looked at his old friends, one by one. "My prayer has been answered as well."

Sawyer, Sorano, and Erik all moved uncomfortably in their seats. There was something like fear reflected in the eyes of Sorano and Sawyer. Bitterness, envy, and fear that their prayers would not be answered. Erik, on the other hand, glanced at the girl sitting next to him.

"Fairy Tail answered my prayer," he continued. He glanced at Dreamer, giving her a slight smirk. "Who knows? I might find my freedom here, too."

"Doo bop~," Gajeel whispered in agreement, with a passionate strum of the guitar strings.

"So…" Cana leaned on the table, red cheeked and sluggish. "Are you staying or not?"

Macbeth met Makarov's eyes. "I'm staying."

Makarov nodded and beamed a mustached smile at him. Dreamer released a long breath. "Thank Mavis…" she whispered.

"Damn," Piper sighed. "That's too bad." But he winked at his roommate, who made a crude gesture with a gloved finger in response.

"Now that that's settled," Makarov said. "I believe there is still another issue to discuss."

"Resmond."

Sorano's head hung a little lower. Erik closed his eyes and leaned back.

"Sorry, Midnight," Erik said. "When the guy hired us, we had no idea he was out for your girl."

Dreamer's cheeks flushed. Piper's eyebrow twitched.

"We didn't know you _had_ a girl," Sawyer interjected.

"HE DOESN'T!" Piper stood and slammed his palms on the table.

"Easy, tiger," Cana tugged him back down by the hair.

Erik smirked. "The point is, we didn't know he was playing us to get to you."

"What can you tell us?" Dreamer spoke quickly, taking a step toward the Oracion Seis members. "You're working for him? What does he want? What is he planning? Where is he?"

"Dreamer," Macbeth's voice pulled her back. He looked seriously at his old comrades.

"The truth is," Erik continued, nonchalantly. "We don't really know."

"How can you not know?!" She took another frantic step forward, moving as if she wanted to strangle him. Macbeth held her back by the collar and sighed.

"Hmph," Sorano watched with amused eyes. "That's right, Midnight. Keep your dog on her leash."

"Angel, stop," Sawyer said, gruffly. "There's no point. Let's just tell them what we know. We don't need to cause any more problems."

"Words of wisdom," Makarov nodded in approval.

"Look," Erik spoke again. "Resmond broke us out of prison and told us we were working for him. He promised us money, power, freedom, the usual."

"A place in his paradise," Sorano said, reverently.

"But we never went to his base and he was never clear about the details of his plan. He put us in charge of assassinating people who could be traced back to him. Like the smugglers responsible for transporting the diamonds he stole."

Macbeth and Piper shared a look.

Dreamer was shaking. Macbeth's fingers remained gripped around her collar.

"We do know what he's planning, though…" Sawyer said, quietly.

Sorano spoke up, puffing her chest out arrogantly. "He's going to destroy half of Earthland and rebuild a kingdom of diamonds—a heaven where angels roam freely."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Gajeel sat down his guitar.

"How does he plan on doing that?" Kinana asked, green eyes wide.

"He's got a weapon," Sawyer said. "We don't know what it is or how it works, but his shipments of diamonds have something to do with it."

"And he's keeping it somewhere in Iceberg," Erik added. "That's all we've got."

Dreamer clenched her fists and fought back tears. "What about Syllest? Why is he trying to take her?!"

The Oracion Seis members looked at one another. "Sorry," Erik shook his head. "We didn't know about you or the girl."

"Wait, can't you hear thoughts," Gajeel asked suddenly. "You mean to tell me that's all you know?"

Erik pinched his temple in irritation. "I hear everything," he snapped. "But…" he clenched his teeth.

"There are some things that can block out sound, restricting his ability to hear," Macbeth said. He knew because he could keep his thoughts from Erik using dark magic when necessary.

Erik scowled, as if frustrated by this secret weakness getting out. "Yeah… The guy was using something to block me out. So, you got it, steel-face. That's all I know."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"…He's powerful." Sawyer spoke up. "The magical energy around him… It rivals Zero's. No… It might even be stronger than that."

"It _is_ ," Sorano said with a slow nod. "It is the power of a king."

Dreamer put her head in her hands as images flashed through her mind. Yellow eyes, gleaming against a backdrop of black. Blood… Red streaked through long, cream hair. Pink eyes closed forever. A baby flailing on the floor, hungry, scared…

"Sorry," Erik said. He looked at Dreamer with sympathy. "We didn't know."

Makarov let out a slow sigh and stroked his mustache in thought. After a moment, he nodded. "This is more information on the man than even Jezran has been able to dig up in the past few weeks. Mark my words, Dreamer, we will find him and protect both you, and Syllestra."

Macbeth tugged her back by the collar and made her sit on a bench, where she continued to sob into her hands.

"Dreamy…" Piper got up and joined her. He threw an arm around her shoulder and let her cry against him. No one protested. Macbeth remained standing, expressionless and still.

"Very well…" Makarov sighed again. "It seems we've covered everything. Oracion Seis, you are free to leave. Keep in mind, however, that you are still an enemy to Fairy Tail. You are not welcome to return as you wish."

Kinana instinctively grabbed Erik's hand. She stared at him, wide-eyed, afraid. He smirked.

"Why don't you two go on without me?" He looked at Sorano and Sawyer, who were standing up.

"Are you serious?" Sorano gaped at him.

"Don't tell me you don't recognize Cubellios," he said, sporting a fang toothed grin.

Sawyer folded his arms and Sorano narrowed her eyes at the purple-haired girl. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Looks like my prayer's been answered too." He put an arm around Kinana's shoulder. She blushed and looked apologetically at Sorano.

"So, what?" Angel put her hands on her hips. "You're joining Fairy Tail now, too?"

Erik shrugged and looked at Makarov. "Any objections, old man?"

Makarov's eyebrow twitched. He sighed. "I can't say I didn't see this coming." He looked at Macbeth, then Kinana, then Erik. "Fine. But, like Macbeth, you will start out as an employee, not a member. Kinana will be in charge of giving you tasks to do around the guild."

"Fine by me," Erik said, contentedly. He squeezed Kinana's shoulder and she gulped, clearly not expecting this turn of events.

"And there will be absolutely no fighting with Natsu, do you understand?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot that fire-breather is a member too," he laughed.

A boot suddenly landed hard on the bench next to Erik, splintering wood. It was Gajeel, leaning to get in Erik's face, eyes narrowed threateningly. "Hey, bacteria-brains," he growled, "if you're really joinin' the guild, there's one thing you need to know?"

Erik raised an eyebrow, hearing Gajeel's words before he said them. "You're Beth's best friend now, huh?"

"Damn right," Gajeel bared his teeth. "I don't care if you grew up together, I'm his best pal now! And if you ever pull him away from band practice, I'll break your face in, got it?"

"You're in a band, huh?" Erik smirked. "I can play a few instruments."

Gajeel crossed his muscular arms over his chest and glared at Erik, sparks flying between them. "…Fine." He slammed a fist on the table, making Kinana jump. "You can try out for the band, but Beth's still _mine!_ "

"Wait, I thought Midnight was with the pink-eyed girl?" Sawyer whispered to Sorano.

"Maybe he swings both ways," she said with a noncommittal shrug.

"Maybe it's a three person, polyamorous thing?"

"Who cares?"

Makarov cleared his throat. "Sawyer, Sorano. I don't suppose we'll be getting out the guild stamp for you, too?"

Sorano straightened up and lifted her chin in a dignified manner. "No."

"This isn't the place for us." Sawyer shook his head.

Macbeth walked over to them. He stood in front of the two of them for a long moment. "Will you return to Resmond?"

The remaining two members of Oracion Seis looked at one another. "Look, Midnight… Macbeth." Sawyer cleared his throat. "We don't want to fight you."

"But he promised to make our prayers come true," Sorano said quietly.

They shared a long, hard look. Macbeth nodded finally. "Choose freedom."

Sorano suddenly threw her arms around his neck once more. Sawyer hugged him as well. "I'm glad you're happy, Macbeth…" Sorano whispered.

"You choose freedom, too, okay?" Sawyer patted his back.

"I have," Macbeth said.

They pulled apart from one another. Without another word, and with tears glimmering in her eyes, Sorano turned and began to stride away. Sawyer paused to nod at Erik, who waved. And after that, they left. Members of Fairy Tail parted to let the last remaining members of Oracion Seis walk freely out of the guild hall.

"What a night," Makarov groaned and got off the table. He clasped Macbeth's hand in his. "I'm proud of you, my boy." He let him go before the surprised wizard could respond, and then walked toward his office. "Get some sleep, you rascals!"

"What?!" Cana stood up and raised a glass. "No way! It's time to parrrttyyy!"

Piper rubbed Dreamer's arm until she was calmer. "It's like Master says, Dreamy. We'll find Res, alright? Everything's cool. 'Sides, Mac is stickin' around. Ain't that what you's wanted?"

She wiped her eyes and sniffled before looking up. Unsurprisingly, she caught Macbeth staring at her. He showed no emotion, but his eyes were vortexes of blood, luring her in, capturing her. She nodded slowly. "Y-you're right." She squeezed Piper's hand and smiled at him. "Tonight's a night to celebrate, not worry."

"That's right." He smiled warmly at her and tucked a strand of cream hair behind her ear. His emerald eyes glimmered with gentle care and warmth, like the leaves of the forest on a sunny day. "So, let's celebrate."

She let him help her to her feet.

"Hey! Gajeel! Go wake up the boys and tell 'em it's party night!" Piper cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted.

"You got it!" Gajeel booked it toward the boy's dormitory.

"Kina, go get the girls!"

"B-but… It's like three AM…"

"Best time to partaaayyyy!" Cana spun in a circle.

"Dreamy, go get Pops and Syllest and MJ! Nobody's sleepin' tonight!"

/

Fairy Tail cheer soon took over the mood of the room. Dreamer tried to clear her head of the news of Resmond, just for tonight. She walked to Macbeth and smiled at him. "I'm glad you're staying."

He smirked. "What would I do without my own personal dream to torment?" He poked her cheek. "I'd die of boredom out there."

"I thought you were tired of me," she said, smirking right back. "You mentioned something about… _Lucy_ making a better plaything?"

"Did that upset you, Dream?" He drew his face closer to hers. "Were you _jealous_?"

She gulped, a shiver going down her spine. "W-Wha, no! No! I know you were just being a jerk."

He chuckled under his breath. "It's too easy to get a reaction out of you." He pulled his face away. "And also amusing."

"So… You're not bored with me?"

He didn't answer. He turned and walked toward the bar, coat and scarf fluttering behind him.

"Wait! Where are you going?!"

"To get beer. We are celebrating aren't we?"

/

And so, a strange and tense night turned into a night of celebration—with Fairy Tail joined by a new ex-member of the Oracion Seis.


	43. Girl Date!

**A/N: FILLER! You know the drill! This chapter is for entertainment purposes! Poor Dreamer needs a break, right? And so does Macbeth after that heart-wrenching reunion with his old guild mates. And hey, you readers deserve a break from all the emotional chaos too! ;) So, sit back and enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 43: Girl Date!**

 _Three days later_...

Ever since the Oracion Seis left, Dreamer had been in the library all daylight hours, and most of the nights. She was desperately researching—digging through anything she could find related to weapons large enough to wipe out continents, or weapons or artifacts that could be found in the country of Iceberg—anything that might lead her to Resmond.

Midway through day one of searching, Levy joined her. The script mage used her magic glasses to speed up the process, and yet, there simply didn't seem to be any information about a magical weapon in Iceberg. No clues whatsoever.

"Dreamer, I think we should take a break," Levy sighed and closed a book about the soil properties of magical stones in Iceberg.

If Dreamer heard her, she ignored it. She climbed another rung higher on the ladder that leaned against the towering library shelves, reaching for a red-spine book.

"Come on, I'm hungry," the blue-haired mage stood and folded up her reading glasses. "And I know you haven't eaten all day."

"I don't have time," she snapped in response. Her fingers were trembling, possibly weak from the meals she'd been skipping. Because of this, she fumbled the book as she pulled it out, and gasped when it tumbled to the ground with a heavy thud. She instinctively reached out after it and nearly lost her balance.

"Dreamer!" Levy grabbed the bottom of the ladder to steady it. "Seriously, you need a break, girl."

"I can't afford a break." She leaned her head against the books and made a face of frustration and defeat. "I have to find out what he's planning…"

"I don't think an hour break will affect his plans, Dreamer." She appealed to the cream haired wizard again. "Please come down."

Dreamer sighed and gave up. She came down the ladder.

"Atta-girl." Levy rubbed her shoulders when she was finally planted firmly on the ground. "Let's go see if the café is still open. We can get some coffee together."

She looked at the gentle face of her friend and nodded, finally managing a smile. "That sounds nice."

They abandoned their search for the time being, emerging from the dark library for the first time in hours. Dreamer rubbed her eyes at the uncomfortable sensation of sunlight retracting her pupils as it shone through the hall windows. She stretched and cracked her back as they walked. What she wouldn't give for a relaxing, hot bath right about now.

They ventured through the main room, which was bustling with some activity—not nearly as crazy as it could be, but still rowdy. Then through the doors to the patio. To their combined relief, the café hadn't closed down yet. Kinana still stood behind the counter, currently putting ice in a cold coffee for Wakaba.

"An extra shot of caramel," she said cheerily as she handed him the cup.

"Thanks Kina." He bowed his head and walked past Levy and Dreamer with a wave. The two girls went to the counter.

"Hi, Kinana," Levy waved cheerfully and Dreamer smiled.

"Oh, hello, you two!" Kinana adjusted the cupcake-patterned apron she was wearing. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Can I have an iced coffee?" Levy asked.

"Iced espresso double-shot, vanilla instead of cream." Dreamer groaned.

"Whoa, going all out, huh D?" Levy giggled and put a comforting arm around her.

"I'll get those for you right away!" Kinana hummed as she got to work. Something about her seemed different than Dreamer remembered. Her round cheeks seemed a bit rosier than usual, and the air around her felt warm… She closed her eyes and tried to identify the feeling. _Happiness_ … _Excitement_ … _Nervousness_ …

"I haven't gotten the chance to ask," Levy said, interrupting her thoughts. She leaned against the counter, resting her chin on her elbows. "How do you feel now that you know about your past?"

Kinana paused, mid-pour. "It's really nice to know the truth," she said honestly.

"Aaaand?" Levy's tone turned devious. "How do you feel about our newest guild employee?"

She actually knocked over the cup and spilled its contents on the floor and her feet.

"I-I… Erik is… He's my best friend. Apparently." She nervously scrambled to clean up the mess.

"How many dragon slayers does that make for Fairy Tail now?" Dreamer asked, losing herself in thought.

"Let's see…" Levy cocked her head and tapped her fingers on the counter. "Gajeel, Natsu, Wendy, now Erik… And there's Laxus, though technically he's not a member. At least not right now…"

"Wow, Fairy Tail just draws them in like moths, doesn't it?" Dreamer giggled. She was about to offer Kinana some help, after watching the girl drop the same cup for the third time in a row, but she didn't get the chance. Her eyes caught the familiar swish of black hair walking toward the doors.

"Syllestra Raine Cumula, what are you doing?" She turned in an instant, taking on mom-face—arms crossed, eyes narrowed, lips carefully pinched just enough to give the illusion of rage.

The child stopped in her tracks. She whipped around quickly to face Dreamer, her hands behind her back.

Her raven hair was pulled back into a ponytail, still long enough to brush her waist. She was wearing a white gown with a red floral pattern on it, white sandals, and a guilty expression.

"Why aren't you in school, young lady?"

Syllest stared at her—overly large pink eyes widening even more. She raised an eyebrow.

"Mom, there's no school today," she pointed out.

"What do you mean there's—"

"Saturday," Levy whispered.

"Well that doesn't—oh…" She regained composure and cleared her throat. "What do you have behind your back?"

Syllest took a step back. "Nothing," she said, too quickly.

"Syllestra…" Dreamer's eyes flashed in warning.

"Nothing, Mom!" She shook her head fiercely. Pink eyes shot at the nearby door.

"Don't. You. Dare."

She looked between Dreamer and the door. Dreamer. Door.

"Young lady, you will be grounded for a week!" Dreamer took a step forward. Syllest took a step back. "Give it to me."

Syllest shook her head wildly, causing her black hair to whip side-to-side. Then... she bolted.

"SYLLEST!" Dreamer shouted after her but she paid her no heed. She was already through the guild hall doors, her secret package held tightly against her chest.

Dreamer was about to chase after the child, but exhaustion weighed heavily on her. That, and Kinana had just slid a very delicious looking iced coffee across the counter.

"Pick your battles…" she grumbled before picking up the cup. "Thank you, Kina."

"Relax, D," Levy leaned against her arm. "It was probably just another present for Romeo."

"Yeah, I know." That was definitely the most likely possibility. "I worry about that kid sometimes…"

"Of course you do," her friend smiled warmly, "you're a good mom."

Warmth filled Dreamer's chest, and she pulled Levy in for a hug. "Hey, you know what? You were right, I do need a break! You wanna walk around town for a little while? Maybe do some shopping?"

"Are you kidding?" Levy clutched both of her hands. "Of course I want to!"

"Kinana, how about you?" Dreamer looked at her. "We could help you close up the café and then all go together?"

"Oh, I don't know…"

"We could pick you out a cute new dress to wear for _you-know-who_ …"

"I-It's not like that! We're best friends!"

With some extra persuasion, they were able to convince Kinana to join them on a walk through town. They helped clean up the café, then headed out…

* * *

 _An hour later…_

Romeo's expression was akin to Natsu or Gray's whenever Erza walked into the room: Wide-eyed and horrified.

"Well?" Syllest put her hands on her hips and stared expectantly at him. The walls of the storage closet felt like they were closing in.

"I… uh…" What was he supposed to say? If he said the wrong thing he was going to get slapped, he just knew it. His cheek was already burning in preparation. He swallowed nervously and shrank even more against the shelves behind him, knocking a broom over.

"Be honest!" Her eyes looked almost red in this dim lighting. Red and demonic…

"Well, I…" He winced. What would his dad say? Or Natsu? _They_ understood girls… "Um… I…" He gulped again. "Y-Yeah! Syllest, it's… great!"

She leaned forward, eyes narrowed, nose almost touching his. Her cheeks were puffed out as she analyzed his face to see if he was lying.

 _Please don't hit me. Please don't hit me!_

"Really?"

She was way too close. He felt like he was going to suffocate and die. Die here in a guild storage room and never get the chance to be as cool as Natsu. Killed by a girl. How humiliating…

"Yeah!" he stammered. "S-Seriously, Syllest. Y-You look…" What was the right word? What word was least likely to get him slapped? "C-Cute."

Bingo.

She cracked a wide gin and finally gave him some breathing room. "Really?! Yay! You're the greatest, Romeo!" She crushed him in an embrace. "I had to see if my best friend liked it before I walked around the guild!"

She was going to walk around the guild like that?! Oh no, what had he done…

"A-Ah, well…" He wriggled in her grip. "Maybe that's not a good idea, Syllest…"

"Why not?" She cocked her head to the side, eyelashes fluttering.

"W-Well, you know… What if you get in trouble?"

She rolled her eyes. "My mom's not even here."

"But what about Piper or Macbeth? I mean, didn't you get that from—"

"Macbeth is cleaning the attic with that snake guy," she snapped. "And Piper knows better than to tell on me." She huffed. "If he does, I'll tell Mom that he likes her!"

Romeo blanched. This girl… was seriously evil.

"Move." She shoved him aside so she could open the closet door.

He watched her black ponytail bounce as she pranced into the hallway. He slumped against the broom and breathed a sigh of relief. "She's… crazy."

* * *

 _Another hour later…_

"See, Kinana! Aren't you happy you came with us?"

The three women were walking up the stairs to the door of the hall, arms laden with shopping bags.

"Yeah, that was actually really fun!" Kinana grinned, her cheeks rosy. Levy and Dreamer had helped her choose a short, pale green dress with matching high heels, adorned with layers of lace, frills, and a green bow with a white rose attached to the front of it. She had no idea when she would actually wear it, but it definitely looked cute.

Dreamer usually hated spending money on clothes, but Levy was an enabler. Chimes of "oooh, girl that's so cute," and, "just try it on," ended up costing her the entire reward from her last job. On the plus side, she had six or seven new outfits, each of which she was dying to see how Macbeth would react to.

 _Wait, did I just think that?_

She hoped the other girls didn't see her blush. Luckily, when she glanced at them, they were each hiding their own giddy grins. Apparently she wasn't the only one thinking about a special man in her life…

The doors opened before the girls could reach them. Out walked all three members of the Thunder Legion. Freed, with the green lightning bolt fly-aways catching in the breeze. Bickslow, overdressed for the time of the year in his obscure knight-outfit, laughing gaudily about something with his tongue hanging out. Evergreen, hand placed pompously on her hip.

"Yo, ladieeesss." Bickslow waved at the three girls.

"Oh, hi guys!" Levy waved back. "Where are you headed?"

The legion shared a look with one another. "That isn't important," Freed said. He extended his arm and pointed accusingly at Dreamer, suddenly. "You should be more concerned with supervising that child of yours."

Dreamer blinked. "What?"

"It's hardly proper for a girl of her age—"

Evergreen and Bickslow's hands both closed over his mouth at the same time. In a flash, they were dragging him down the stairs, kicking dust behind them.

"WAIT!" Dreamer called out.

"Later babes!"

They were gone.

"What was that about?" Dreamer looked at Levy and Kinana, who both seemed just as confused as she was. She clenched a fist. "I'm about to find out…"

Dreamer kicked the guild hall door open with the heel of her sandal. Her eyes scanned the crowd. No sign of Syllest… But, Mirajane was behind the bar.

Dreamer marched over to her.

"Mira!" She slammed her bags of clothing onto the counter.

"Ooooh, you went shopping? Can I see?" Mira started rifling through the bags.

"Where's Syllest?" A shadow crossed over her face, a dark aura surrounding her.

"Ah… Dreamer, we're going to go put away our stuff, okay?" Levy laughed awkwardly and slowly walked backward with Kinana. "See you later!"

They bolted.

"Mirajane. Where is she?"

"Oh!" Mira grinned, blue eyes shimmering like oceans in sunlight. "I was surprised you let her do that, Dreamer! But you should have helped her. She looks a bit scary."

"Let her do _what_ exactly?"

"Are you talking about Syllest?" Mira's little sister slid into the seat next to Dreamer. "I'm more surprised Macbeth let her do it, honestly."

"She must really admire him," Mira said with a giggle. "It's like she already sees him as a dad!"

Dreamer felt a blush creeping across her cheeks, but quickly drowned it out with renewed fury. "What are you talking about, Mira?"

"Oh look!" Lisanna pointed. "There she is now!"

Dreamer spun around and spotted Syllest in the crowd. She was standing proudly with her back toward the bar, standing up to a group of laughing members who were cooing at her.

"Syllest!" Dreamer shouted. The girl froze. Without turning back to look at her surrogate mother, she ran.

"STOP THAT KID!" Dreamer dove over a table after her, knocking cups and plates to the ground.

Syllest dove under a table. Dreamer chased after, throwing the table to the side with inhuman strength, only to see black hair whipping around a pillar. She skidded past the pillar after her, to see Syllest sliding underneath Juvia's legs and jumping on the stage. Dreamer ran after her, taking Juvia by surprise, who gasped and took on a water form which Dreamer ran straight through.

Now drenched, she jumped on the stage and slipped. She looked up to see Syllest leaping off the stage and using Natsu's head as a springboard onto Elfman's shoulders, with another bound so that she could grab Happy's feet in the air.

"What's happening?!" Happy shrieked, and his wings vanished, both him and Syllest crashing to the ground.

"MOVE!"

Natsu and Elfman squeaked in horror as Dreamer lunged off the stage. They sidestepped to avoid her rampage.

Syllest screamed and threw Happy at Dreamer's face to buy time. The little blue cat's claws caught in Dreamer's hair.

"Don't kill me!" He cried and jumped into Natsu's arms for safety.

"SYLLEST!" Dreamer kept running as Syllest reached for a side door. Just as her little hand touched the doorknob, a gauntleted fist gripped her by the ponytail and hoisted her into the air.

Dreamer skidded to a halt. She put her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. "Er…za…" She gasped for air. "Thank you."

Erza held the flailing child in the air and scowled. At _Dreamer._

"I am disappointed in you Daffodil."

"It's Dreamer."

"—Seven years old is far too young to be wearing makeup. And especially in such a garish manner."

It was only now that Dreamer had the opportunity to see Syllest's face.

The child's lips were colored a dark plum, horribly ragged around the edges, black lipstick almost reaching to her ear on one side. Dark eyeshadow surrounded her eyes like black holes. Mascara clumped in her eyelashes and stained one of her eyebrows.

"Oh Syllest…" Dreamer put her face in her palm with a sigh. "What are you doing?"

Erza dropped her. She scrambled to her feet and put her hands on her hips to face Dreamer. "Romeo said I look cute!"

"He lied to you," Erza and Dreamer said simultaneously.

"Sweetie…" Dreamer stepped forward and crouched in front of her. Syllest shamefully avoided her eyes. "Where did you… Is that _Macbeth's_ makeup?"

Syllest dropped her head in guilt.

"Please don't tell me you snuck into his room and stole his stuff!"

"I had to!" She protested. "You don't wear makeup! Or, at least, you only use that pencil stuff that goes around your eyes, but I really wanted to look cool like Macbeth and I think he's so pretty, he's prettier than any of the girls here anyway, except maybe Auntie Mira, but anyway I knew that he would have—"

"Are you wearing perfume?"

"Yeah! I didn't know which one to use because he has like ten of them, so I just used them all!"

"Oh, Syllest…" Dreamer sighed.

"Am I in trouble?"

She stood up and ruffled Syllest's bangs. "No. But we should probably return Macbeth's things. I can't guarantee you won't be in trouble if _he_ finds out."

She nodded and took Dreamer's hand. They started for the door, and, as luck would have it, ran straight into the Night Terror himself…

He stared down. Tall and imposing, casting a shadow over both of them. Syllest hid behind Dreamer with a tiny squeak.

"M-Macbeth," Dreamer gave a fake smile. _Dear Mavis, let him be in a good mood today._

He looked past Dreamer to the trembling form cowering behind her. Wordlessly, he extended a hand.

Syllest reached into the pocket of her dress with shaking fingers. She pulled out a black makeup kit and awkwardly held it out to him.

"I-I'm sorry, Macbeth…"

He took the kit and slid it into the pocket of his coat, but didn't take his eyes of her. He extended his hand again. "Come with me."

Syllest's eyes nearly bugged out of her skull. She looked desperately at Dreamer. "He's going to kill me…" She whispered in terror.

"Are you really afraid of me, Syllestra?" He smirked and cocked his head to the side. A dangling earring caught in the light. "Here I thought you weren't afraid of anything."

The little girl boldly stepped forward and lifted her chin high. "I'm not scared!" She slapped her little hand into his palm. "I was just pretending!"

"Of course you were." He tugged her along, turning his back on Dreamer.

"Hey! Wait! Where are you taking her?!"

He didn't answer her, just continued to lead the clown-faced child out of the guild hall.

"Isn't it obvious, Dreamer?" Mirajane giggled from behind the bar, while examining a dress Dreamer had bought. "He's taking her on a girl date!"

"Yes, that is probably correct," Erza nodded, as if the prospect wasn't totally ridiculous.

"What?! But that's—there's no way…"

* * *

 _At Dreamer and Mirajane's shared home…_

Syllest's room was exactly as one would imagine a seven-year-old's room to be. Pink wallpaper covered in colored pencil drawings of flowers. A frilly white comforter on a child's bed, covered from head to foot with plush animals. A plastic vanity with dolls and doll hairbrushes. Children's books and toys strewn across the carpet.

And an ex-assassin sitting cross-legged on a handmade kitty cat rug.

"Purple clashes with your pink eyes," he was explaining, as he brushed white eyeshadow on her eyelids.

Syllest giggled cheerily, like this was the absolute best day of her life. "Can I practice curling my hair next?!"

"Yes. You can practice on mine."

"REALLY?! You'll let me curl your hair, Macbeth?!"

He smirked. His red eyes were uncharacteristically warm.

"Who taught you how to do your makeup?" She asked. "Do you get mad when people think you're a girl? Do you want to be a girl? Gay people wear makeup right? I don't really understand all of that, but you're not gay right? If you are then you can't kiss Mom… I guess you could be with Uncle Piper. Except, wait, he'd have to be gay too, huh? How does that work? How do you straighten the back of your hair if you can't see it in the mirror—does Uncle Piper help you with that? Teehee, I wish I could see him brushing your hair. I don't think it's weird you wear makeup. There are all sorts of weird people at Fairy Tail, so I think you should look like whatever you want to look like. Romeo might look cute with makeup! We should do him next!"

She rambled on and on and on. The two of them spent the next hour or more doing each other's hair, painting each other's nails black and white, and deciding on what earrings to wear.

"Syllest?" Dreamer came home and peered uncertainly into the hall. "Um… Are you in here?"

The girl pranced happily out of her bedroom, wearing a frufru pink dress. White nails, white eyeshadow, black hair curled into perfect locks. She looked like a porcelain doll, not a single flaw about her.

She curtsied in front of Dreamer. "How do I look now, Mom?"

Dreamer blinked.

"Mom, Macbeth's taking me out for ice cream, okay?" She hummed and skipped to the front door.

Dreamer continued to gape, not believing her eyes. She was even more stunned when Macbeth followed Syllest shortly after. His hair had been curled into ringlets as well, and he wore a black bow in his hair. He smirked mischievously at Dreamer as he walked past.

"This cannot be happening…" She blinked. "Wait, those are MY earrings, Macbeth!"

He waved.

"What are you doing with my child?!"

"Taking her on a girl date," he said, eyes twinkling.

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"Don't be jealous, Dream." He brushed her knuckles as he walked by. "I can take you on a date later, too, if that's what you want."

Her cheeks flashed pink. "N-No, that's not… This is ridiculous!"

"You can wear the silver dress you just bought," his voice dropped an octave, eyes burning like embers.

She flushed horribly. "Wh—I—no—"

"Macbeth, come on!"

He gave Dreamer one last villainous smirk before following Syllest out the front door, the tails of his bow fluttering behind him.

Dreamer flopped on the couch and covered her eyes with her arm. "I don't even know what's happening anymore…"

A girl date between Syllest and Macbeth, apparently.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you guys liked that, it's definitely one of my favorite scenes. Cute and fun!**

 **Thank you for your reviews and feedback, as always!**

 **A word on my choice to split up the Oracion Seis: I felt that, given the choice, each member of the Seis would search for freedom in their own way, since they each crave such different things. That's why Richard didn't even make an appearance. It made sense to me that he would deny Resmond in favor for looking for his brother. As for Sorano and Sawyer, I simply could not imagine them ever feeling "free" at Fairy Tail. Sorano would hate it, and Sawyer would do much better in a guild that travels rather than one that has a headquarters in one location. But Erik? Maybe I was reading too much into it as a viewer, but it always seemed to me that Erik and Macbeth were pretty close, or at least their respect for one another surpassed the respect between the other members of the Seis. So, really, once Erik found out that Cubellios AND Macbeth were in Fairy Tail, there was no logical reason for him to be anywhere else. That's why I separated the group up like I did.**

 **And also, Ori, I fully support your choice to broship GajBeth, because they are literally the best brotp in existence. xD Trivia: My inspiration for their friendship came from the episode of Key of the Starry Heavens where they fight one another. Then, once I drew the comparisons between the two of them, it was set forever in stone. Gajbeth for life.**

 **Gajeel: "Tell the whole world that we're bros!"**

 **Macbeth: *whispers* "We're bros."**

 **Gajeel: "Why did you whisper?"**

 **Macbeth: "Because you are my whole world, bro."**

 **Gajeel: "BRO!"**

 **^ Insight into yellowchikadee's creative processes. XD**

 **Thank you all for your continued support! Please, keep giving me feedback, encouragement, and critiques! I value your responses immensely!**


	44. The Nikolana Device

**Chapter 44: The Nikolana Device**

Dreamer and Levy had completely exhausted the guild library for any books that could give them a lead on Resmond. They'd taken their search to the religious books kept at Kardia Cathedral. Unfortunately, they were only permitted inside at certain hours, and another day was ending with no leads.

"Please, one more hour," Dreamer begged the priest as he gently ushered them out.

"I am truly sorry, sister," he bowed his head, "but the doors must close for the night."

She opened her mouth to argue but Levy pulled on the sleeve of her jacket. "Come on, Dreamer. We'll try again tomorrow."

She pinched her lips together and glanced wistfully at the shelves and books they hadn't checked yet. She felt like they were so close to answers. So close and yet so far… Finally, she allowed Levy to pull her out onto the sidewalk.

It was cool out, despite the season. The moon was rising in the sky, perhaps a night or two from being full—still bright enough to cast pale light on Magnolia. That same moon was casting its glow on Resmond somewhere, as he got closer and closer to fulfilling whatever wicked thing he was planning. And that plan somehow involved Syllest.

"Dreamer?" Levy said. She looked at her. The script mage's blue hair was pulled back by a headband. She was wearing her usual orange dress and red reading glasses. She slid those off of her nose and into her tote bag, revealing tired eyes. "Do you want me to walk home with you?"

The townhouse she shared with Mira was a few blocks south, opposite the direction of the guild hall. Dreamer shook her head. "No, I'm going back to the guild. I'll walk you to the dorm."

"Back to the guild?" Levy frowned. She took Dreamer's hands in her own and met her gaze, worriedly. "D, I know you're worried about this, but if you don't take it easy, you're going to wear yourself down and make yourself sick."

She looked guiltily at her hands in Levy's. "I know… I just… I can't sleep right now. I'm going to go to the guild garden and try to clear my head."

Levy nodded with a tender smile. She didn't release Dreamer's hand as they walked to the guild hall. They parted ways at the doors with a hug. Dreamer watched her walk toward the girls' dormitory for a moment, feeling a little bit ashamed of how much time she'd made Levy spend on this wild hunt with her. She was a good friend, willingly going out of her way to help Dreamer night and day like this. She'd have to make it up to her somehow… after they found Resmond.

To her surprise, the guild garden glowed in the night, lit up by strands of yellow lights that had never been there before. She walked there with a frown. The lights had been carefully weaved through the bars of the fence surrounding the garden. They created a warm, ambient mood in the place, but… She followed the strand to the lacrima-powered source of its light. Kneeling, she pressed the power switch and watched the lights flicker off.

"That's better."

Now, the garden was lit only by pale moonlight, the way she felt it should be. There was something magical about this place in the dark—about the moonflowers stretching their petals toward the sky. With the lights off, she could see the stars, dazzling brilliantly up above. She'd spent many nights sitting on the bench in the garden after dark, realigning her feelings.

She straightened up and opened the gate, which gave a familiar creak. She took a half step inside, then a voice cut the silence.

"I'm insulted."

She turned around and saw the eyes burning like embers in the dark. Macbeth stood before her. He was wearing his long, gray coat but not the fur scarf that complimented it. He wasn't wearing earrings or hair beads or gloves either. The only adornments to his outfit were a black choker necklace positioned above the dream catcher he never seemed to take off. His hands were in the pockets of his striped pants, thumbs hanging out. His belt hung low on his hips, revealing the skin of his lower stomach. She caught her gaze lingering here for a moment—and quickly corrected herself by looking back up at his smirking, black lips.

"Not a fan of my modifications to the garden, Dream?" He cocked his head slightly, the smirk absolutely venomous.

"You put up the lights?" She swallowed, suddenly regretting her choice to turn them off.

"All that hard work and not an ounce of appreciation," his voice was teasing.

"No, no!" She lifted her hands defensively. "It's not that I don't like the lights! It's… I mean, look at the moon." She gestured toward the sky. "It's too beautiful to drown out with lights tonight. I'll turn them back on when I leave, I promise."

He said nothing. Burning embers licked her skin, his gaze combing over her. The intensity in his eyes made a shiver go down her spine.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, in an effort to make this somehow less… awkward? Intense?

"I was getting ready for bed and looked out the window to see that some fly had the audacity to undo the hard work I spent all day doing." The mocking sneer. "I came ready to make someone pay."

She let out a weary laugh. "I'm sorry, Macbeth. Like I said, I'll turn them back on when I leave." She turned her back on him and stepped through the gate. She took two steps and paused, listening to the sound of his boots trudging after her. "What are you doing?"

"Joining you," he said simply.

She turned again, with a sigh. "Macbeth, it's not that I don't want to spend time with you, but… I want to be alone right now." She needed to think.

"So that you can mope, and cry, and feel sorry for yourself?" he laughed. "Yeah, right." He continued to walk forward.

She blinked and a smile crept across her cheeks. "Did you come out here to comfort me?" Warmth filled her chest, as soothing as a cozy fireplace in the winter.

His red eyes were sharp. "Are you dreaming?" A scoff. "I can't miss an opportunity to watch you torture yourself." Amusement shimmered in his expression.

A long sigh escaped her lips. She shrugged. "Whatever you say, Midnight." Seemed like a fitting time to use the pseudonym, considering he was being cruel and creepy again.

She walked to the bench and sat down, resting her elbow on the arm rest, chin in her palm as she gazed at the sky. She didn't protest him sitting next to her, except… How on earth was she supposed to get any clarity of thought when she was sitting within inches of this man? To make it worse, she knew he was staring at her, even though her head was turned away.

For a few minutes, she did her best to relax. She silently recited the names of constellations she recognized, then allowed her gaze to maneuver through the dark spaces between stars. But the blackness, overlaid with the white stars, reminded her of a certain someone's dual-colored hair. A certain someone whose eyes held the same kind of dark power of space, especially when she could practically feel them searing into the side of her head. If he could shoot lasers, her hair would be on fire.

She finally gave up trying to concentrate. She leaned back and stared at the fountain, instead. The water looked black in the dim light.

"Are you glad Erik's here now?" She fished for conversation, because the silent staring was making her insides writhe.

He didn't answer. Continued to stare.

"I had no idea he had a history with Kinana. Things seem like they're getting less awkward between them now, which is good." Casual conversation. Anything to break his concentration on her. "He has a room of his own, right? A soundproof one? I feel like I can remember hearing someone mention that. I guess that must be nice, for someone who can hear people's souls." She shuddered. She was glad Macbeth didn't have that power, or he'd hear the pounding of her heart—hear the less than ladylike thoughts that occasionally crossed her mind regarding the exposed skin at his waist. "How is he going to play in your band with Gajeel? Is he going to wear headphones? You'd think the screaming would hurt his head."

Macbeth still didn't answer. She inwardly groaned, wishing _she_ had the poison-dragon slayer's power. Then, maybe she could hear what this man was thinking when he stared at her for minutes at a time.

"What?" she snapped, finally. She sank into her jacket a bit. The thin material wasn't doing much against the strangely chilled night.

"Why are you so obsessed with finding Resmond?" he suddenly asked.

She tucked her fingers into her sleeves and put her hands under her armpits, squeezing herself tightly, to ward off an entirely different sense of cold. "Isn't that obvious?" Her eyes cut at him. "He's after Syllest. I want to find him before he gets to her."

The bench squeaked as Macbeth leaned closer to her. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, but just as taunting. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you _feared_ him, Dream."

She bit her lip and turned her head. Of course she was scared… He had no idea the things she'd seen Resmond do. The things he did to Rosy… That man was evil. There was no good in his soul. Never once had she detected emotion from him, even when she reached out with all of her magical energy. She'd never sensed anything… No love, no compassion. Even more unnerving, was the fact that she couldn't feel things like hate, fear, desire… No. With Resmond, there was just hollowness. A total void. And that _terrified_ her.

She inhaled a sharp breath when Macbeth's fingers closed on her chin. He pulled her face back to look at him, a bit forcefully. He leaned closer, until she could feel his warm breath on her trembling lips. Until she was being swallowed by pools of blood that scanned her eyes, her nose, her mouth.

" _I_ am the only thing you should be afraid of," he hissed. Had she imagined the slight hoarseness underlying his tone? The tiny tug of desperation on his words? Desperation… for _her_?

She felt her magic surfacing, as the instinct to read his emotions filled her. She closed her eyes and willed it away. _No. I won't read him. That's not how I want this to be._ She buried her magical energy. It was enough that she could sense his intensity. She didn't want to put labels on it. She didn't want to know.

His thumb brushed gently across her eyelashes, causing her to open her eyes. She blinked at him, and couldn't stop her gaze from drifting to his parted lips—to his perfectly applied plum lipstick.

"Don't be afraid of him, Dreamer," he said. "He's nothing but an insect. Insects are easy to crush."

He _was_ trying to comfort her.

She nodded, unable to find words, not with her mouth feeling dry like this. Not with her tongue dancing behind her traitorous lips, which had instinctively parted at the sight of his.

"Macbeth…" she whispered his name. "I…" She what? She had no idea what she was going to say. Her lips were still betraying her, forcing out meaningless words from a brain that couldn't think coherent thoughts while it swirled in pools of blood.

"What is it, Dream?" He smirked, baring perfectly white teeth. His hand cupped her jaw. Had he scooted closer to her at some point? When had his leg pressed against hers?

"Oh… I…" She was still at a loss. Even more so now. Her insides felt like they were burning. They felt like Natsu's flames were boiling them from the inside out. And everywhere Macbeth's fingers brushed her skin felt like tingles of electricity—like the static that would remain in a room after Laxus used his magic. She felt like her body was being barraged by every kind of magic, inspired by the spell she fell under when she was with him.

"Mm," he licked his lips, to the delicious horror of her twisting insides, "that expression is so... _entertaining_." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stroked behind her jaw, nearly eliciting an unwarranted sound from her throat.

Her cheeks burned. "S-Stop," she said, without enthusiasm. Her hands moved of their own accord. One reached up to his stomach, fingers outspread. It was if she had planned to push him away, but when she felt the bare skin there, her hand remained. The other rested on his knee. His smirk widened in response, and the embers in his eyes seemed to burn brighter.

"Stop what?" Face closer. They were sharing breaths now. His thumb stroked the delicate spot on her neck, causing her breath to hitch slightly.

"Stop… teasing me." Her eyelashes fluttered.

Closer… His lips only a hair's breadth away from hers. She parted hers further, in expectation. Her eyes closed. Her fingers trembled on his knee, the other hand now clenching the hem of his shirt.

"Sweet Dream…" he whispered her name like a lullaby, his lips so close that she could feel the vibration of the sound. And just when she thought he would kiss her…

He lifted his chin and press his lips against her forehead.

It was as if a bucket of cold water had completely doused the hot flames that were roaring inside of her a moment ago. He leaned back, breaking the contact they shared, and scooted back to his previous position on the bench. On his face was the evilest smirk she'd ever seen in her life.

"W-Wh…" She swallowed, her eyes wide in surprise. "Why did you do that?!"

"I love seeing the helpless look on your face when I torment you," he answered, with no shame.

"I hate you, Macbeth." She pouted dramatically, though her cheeks were completely flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm sure." He laughed, mockingly and stretched his arms upward, causing the hem of his shirt to lift and expose even more of his stomach, where only a moment ago, her hand had been.

Humiliated now, she stood up and dusted imaginary dirt off of her leggings. "Good night, Satan." She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed out of the garden, but not before crouching to turn the lights back on. "Are you happy now?"

"I'm delighted," he answered, standing.

"Hmph. I bet." She turned her back on him and walked toward the guild with a haughty bounce in her steps. Inside, she felt like mush. She felt totally exhausted, like she'd just run a race and now her muscles were trembling from the exertion.

 _I wanted him to kiss me… What was I thinking! That's MACBETH for Mavis' sake! Of course he wasn't going to kiss me. I should have known…_

Yet, she couldn't fight the icy disappointment in her gut.

Shaking her head, she walked into the guild hall. She supposed she could have just walked straight home, but there was no controlling the quick pace of her feet as she tried to create as much distance between her and Macbeth as possible. Maybe she'd go to the bathroom and splash cold water on her face.

Mira was wiping down the bar, humming a tune under her breath. Dreamer walked past the bar with a relieved sigh. Seeing her best friend helped put reality back into perspective.

"Hey, Mira." Another long exhale as she walked past the bar.

"Hi, Dreamer!" Mira hummed happily as she worked on a particularly sticky spot on the counter.

"Is Syllest with Jezran?" she asked.

"Yep. Why aren't you at home, Dream—" Mira looked up from the bar at Dreamer and suddenly stopped in midsentence.

"I wanted to clear my head," she answered. _Yeah, like that happened._ There were even more thoughts and feelings running through her mind than before.

Mira began giggling uncontrollably. She cupped her hands over her lips, wracked by laughter.

"What? What did I say?" Dreamer blinked at her, shocked. Was she missing something?

"Oh, Dreamer, you naughty thing," Mira winked suggestively at her.

She felt her cheeks get hot. "W-What?!"

"Mirajane, I'm done cleaning the—" Kinana walked in from the kitchen door. She too stopped in midsentence when she saw Dreamer. Her cheeks brightened. "Oh. So that's how it is?"

"I told you!" Mira giggled and squeezed Kinana's arm.

"What are you two laughing about!?" Dreamer was beginning to feel very harassed.

There was a whoosh of wings as Carla flew overhead with paperwork that she was taking to collections. She paused in midflight as she caught Dreamer out of the corner of her eye. A judgmental scowl tugged on her lips. "My goodness, can't you keep your personal activities out of the public eye?" She huffed and continued to fly.

"What?!" Dreamer held her arms out in defeat. "What's going on?!"

It was then that she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She stepped closer, looked at herself, and felt dread crash down on her.

A perfect imprint of black lips was stamped on her forehead.

"W-Wait, no! This isn't what it looks like!" She cried out in horror and lunged for the rag in Mira's hand to scrub her head with.

"Middream for life!" Mira twirled with Kinana, both girls giggling.

"Y-You guys, no!" She waved her hands frantically. Thank goodness he hadn't kissed her lips, or this would be a lot worse. She could just imagine the harassment she'd get if she'd walked in with black lipstick around her mouth…

"Midnight and Dreamer, sitting in a tree—"

"Mirajane, I will kill you!"

"K-I-S-S—"

Dreamer was climbing onto the counter to tackle Mira when another voice suddenly called out to her.

"Dreamer!" The guild doors slammed shut and Levy stood there, a victorious look on her face and a book in her hands. "I found it! I know what he's planning!"

Everything that had happened with Macbeth immediately lost its importance. Dreamer slid off the bar and stared at Levy.

"The Nikolana Device," she said. "He's trying to use an ancient artifact that will cause an earthquake that will destroy continents!"

The guild hall went silent.

Those three words, Dreamer would never forget.

 _The Nikolana Device._


	45. Diamant Blanc

**Chapter 45: Diamant Blanc**

Dreamer and Levy sat across from each other at a table in the guild hall. Mirajane slid to sit beside Dreamer. Kinana joined as well, drawn by the intense aura that had settled between them. Levy opened the book in her hands and laid it out on the table, opened to a dog-eared page depicting a sketch of a strange device.

"How did you find this, Levy?" Dreamer asked. She reached out and touched the edges of the page, delicately, as if they would turn to dust at her fingertips.

"You see, I was getting ready for bed and I was washing my face when I looked at the old jewelry box my grandma gave me," she spoke quickly, the excitement clear in her voice. "I opened it up and saw this." She dug into the pocket of her pajama pants—which were light blue fleece with a cartoonish sheep pattern. She sat a red velvet box on the table beside the book and nodded expectantly at Dreamer.

Unsure of where this was going, she opened the box. Inside was a necklace with a diamond pendant.

"Oooh, that's cute, Levy!" Mira squealed, totally missing the point here. "How come you've never worn it?"

"Because it belonged to my grandmother," Levy answered, with a small smile. "By the way, Dreamer, do you know that you've got something—" she pointed at Dreamer's forehead.

"That's not important," she said quickly. She ran her thumb over the cut edges of the diamond. "I'm sorry, Levy, I don't get it." She lifted it out of its cradle and watched it refract the light above them.

"Where do you think this necklace came from?" Levy asked.

"How am I supposed to know?" she frowned. Mirajane held a hand out, eagerly. She took the necklace from Dreamer and examined the diamond.

"It's a _Diamant Blanc_ necklace, silly!"

"Oh, is that all?" Dreamer frowned. _Diamant Blanc_ was the most famous jeweler in Fiore. No, probably on the entire continent. She had no idea how the company had anything to do with finding Resmond. Other than the fact that they sold diamonds, and were probably where he'd obtained most of the diamonds that Macbeth and Piper discovered had been smuggled.

"I knew it was a loose connection," Levy said, taking the necklace back, "but I was curious, so I went to the guild library and looked them up. That's where I got this book."

Dreamer, Mira, and Kinana all leaned closer, ready to hear the main point.

"The History of Diamant Blanc." She tapped the book. "The company has been around for over two-hundred years, but it was actually started by a group of wizards who called themselves 'The White Diamond.'"

"Wizards?" Kinana voiced the surprise in the room.

"Were they a guild?" Mirajane asked.

"Not exactly." Levy turned the pages of the book to an image of a group of wizards gathered in a cavern, with walls that sparkled with diamonds.

"These wizards…" Dreamer narrowed her eyes at the page. "They… used Diamond Make magic, didn't they?"

Levy nodded vigorously, glad that she was catching on. "Yes. The group studied diamonds and found a way to harness the natural magical energy inside of them and convert it into an energy that could be absorbed by a wizard's soul. It's the same way any Maker Magic was founded."

It was a basic magical fact that most wizards were taught in training. While magical abilities and energy came from the soul of the wizard, it wasn't originally like this. Alchemists had to learn how to utilize primal magic, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years ago. It was only through absorbing magical energy from the elements that magic energy became a part of genetics, intricately woven into the spirits of mankind. Eventually, spells were perfected to gain control of inherent magical power. In theory, any wizard could learn any spell, though each person was predisposed to use specific types with more ease. It was the concept that, for example, since Macao used a type of fire magic, Romeo was born with a natural inclination toward fire magic as well. He could potentially learn different spells, but not with half as much ease as fire magic, and with a much lower success rate. There were exceptions to this rule, of course, such as with the dragon-slayers, or any kind of summoner—but it was a general truth of magic genetics.

It was for this very reason that Syllestra had been born with the ability to use Diamond-Make magic, inherited from Resmond. Dreamer had never taught her any spells or allowed anyone else to teach her magic. All it took was one time, when Syllest saw Gray use ice-make magic, for her to discover she too could create things with her hands.

"Anyway," she continued, "since this was only the beginning of Diamond-Make magic, the wizards had to keep finding diamonds and harnessing the energy from them. Since diamonds are rare, this was a challenge for them. To remedy this, they developed a machine that would create small earthquakes, splitting the ground so that it would be easier to find diamonds."

"The Nikolana Device," Dreamer whispered.

"Right," Levy said. "But…"

There was always a "but" when it came to any kind of powerful ancient artifact.

"One of the alchemists was doing independent research." She turned to a page of a black hooded figure. Even though it was a simple sketch, with no face under the dark hood, chills went through Dreamer's spine. In her imagination, it was Resmond beneath that hood…

"He discovered that the energy of diamonds could be enhanced, with the addition of dark magic." Levy sighed. "Without the knowledge of the other wizards, he infused the diamond powered device with dark energy. This increased the range of destruction the device was capable of. It didn't just create small earthquakes, it was capable of destroying earth for miles around it. And what was worse, the larger the size of the diamond powering it, and the greater amount of dark energy, the wider the range of destruction. At its deadliest, the Nikolana Device could destroy the entire continent without breaking… And the impact would cause tsunamis that would probably destroy the coasts of neighboring continents too. We're talking global-scale destruction."

There were a few gulps. Mirajane's hands wrung nervously on her lap. Kinana played with the hem of her dress. Dreamer clutched the table with white knuckles, eyes closed as she took in this information.

"Realizing they had made a mistake, the other wizards decided to destroy the device. But the dark wizard had created a spell that protected it from destruction. Unable to combat the spell, they decided to seal the device away instead."

The next page depicted a group of wizards holding their hands to the sky, energy wrapping around the large machine.

"They encased it in white diamond, using all of the magical energy they had harvested. They sacrificed their lives and all of the energy within them, to create a magical seal that would prevent the device from ever being exposed.

"The dark wizard tried to cut through the diamond with his own power, but his Diamond Make magic was tainted with darkness. Only pure diamond would ever be able to cut through the spell they'd created.

"Apparently, the jeweler _Diamant Blanc_ was founded by one of the children of the wizards who'd sacrificed themselves. Most people believe the legend was just made up to make _Diamant Blanc_ seem more mysterious—as a marketing technique."

"I see…" Dreamer scratched the wood on the table, a sense of dread eclipsing her. "So… Resmond wants to cut the diamond encasing the Nikolana Device, so that he can use it for destruction." She wondered just how much he intended to destroy. A country? The whole continent from Fiore to Pergrande? And for what reason?

As if he needed a reason.

"It also explains why he's been collecting shipments of diamonds," Levy agreed. "He probably plans on using those diamonds to power the device."

"But why does he want Syllest?" Mirajane asked.

"This is just a theory…" Levy took the book and closed it. "But… If Resmond has ever used dark magic, then his diamond-make is probably tainted. The rules of the spell surrounding the device say that only "pure diamond" can break the case. Syllestra is young…" she looked uncomfortably at Dreamer. "She hasn't been trained in any other kind of magic, so her diamond-make magic is—"

"Pure," Dreamer finished for her.

Levy nodded sadly.

"It's possible he intends to use her magical energy to break the diamond around the device."

"Isn't she his daughter?" Kinana said, as if horrified. Apparently Mira had filled her in on the details. "He would just _use_ her like that? How much magical energy would it take to break a seal on something that large? Would he really put her in danger?"

"Yes," Dreamer said, darkly.

Blood. A baby crying for her mother, the mother murdered unnecessarily at the hands of a man with no heart.

"He wouldn't even hesitate."

"We won't let that happen, Dreamer." Mirajane hugged her, massaging her shoulder comfortingly. "Fairy Tail will keep Syllest safe!"

She didn't respond. She stared at a groove on the tabletop, listening to the hammering of her own heart. After a long moment, she looked up at Levy again.

"The Nikolana Device," she said slowly. "Does that book say where it might be located?"

Levy gave a tiny nod, her hazel eyes filling with uncertainty and concern. "Iceberg…" she said. "In a cave in the northern mountains…"

* * *

 _Magnolia: Beneath the Sola Tree..._

"NO!"

Dreamer yanked her hand out of Jezran's grip. Her face was flushed with panic, her chest heaving with short breaths. There was wild desperation in her pink eyes. "I'm not going to sit around and wait for him to attack! We have to go! NOW!"

It was the next morning. She had gathered Team Derelict Heart together under the Sola tree, to tell them about what Levy had discovered. Warm sunlight filtered through the leaves on the four of them. Jezran, wearing a brown suit with a dark blue tie, his top hat casting shade over an old mustached face. Piper, in a sleeveless white shirt that hung loosely over a spiked belt and ripped jeans—piercings catching sunlight on the ear below the shaved half of his head. He was stroking his sky-blue goatee and looking at Dreamer with concerned emerald eyes. Macbeth, in his old black vest and yellow pants, bare shoulders bearing both the Oracion Seis, and Fairy Tail insignias. His face was expressionless, arms folded over his chest.

Then there was Dreamer. She'd taken no time on her appearance this morning. It was clear she hadn't slept all night, either. Dark circles surrounded her panicked, pink eyes. She'd thrown on a hooded vest and leggings, and hadn't bothered to brush her hair either. None of that mattered to her.

"Dear me, child…" Jezran frowned. "You are suggesting we simply waltz into the Iceberg mountains and stage an attack without any information on the matter."

"We _have_ information!" she snapped. She held her hands out, begging Piper or Macbeth to come to her aid. "We know the device is there and what Resmond is planning! We have to act now before he comes for Syllest!"

"You must think logically, dear me," Jezran countered. "It is only a theory that Resmond's plans revolve around this Nikolana Device. Furthermore, we know him to be a clever and thorough man. There is a very real chance that he will have a plan set in place for this very scenario. Dear me, Dreamer, he likely _expects_ you to come barging in on him!"

"Piper?" She petitioned him, tears welling in her eyes. He coughed awkwardly, averting his eyes from hers.

"Dreamy… I hate ta disappoint you's, but… Pops is right. For all we knows, Res has a damn army waiting for us. We can't go in blind."

Her face showed betrayal. "I thought _you_ would at least support me!" Her words had a physical effect. They made the dice-mage flinch. "Macbeth?" As a last resort, she looked to him. She took a step forward, reaching for one of his hands. Her magical energy swirled behind her eyes.

 _Support. Willingness. Obedience._

Macbeth cut his eyes away from her, as if he knew what she was trying to do. He also quickly slid his hands into his pockets, blocking them from her touch.

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"We're supposed to be a team!" Her voice was frantic. "Why won't you help me stop him!? We _have_ to stop him!"

The three men were silent for a moment, none of them comfortable with her tears.

"Dear child," Jezran spoke up, gentler this time. "We intend to help, I assure you. Please, if you will… Allow me the honor of scouting ahead. I will conduct reconnaissance to determine what we are up against. I will return and we will make a further choice from there."

She shook in sobs. "How long will that take?! What if we don't have that kind of time?!"

"Dreamy, you's gotta calm down. Don't forget, we're all on your side. Not just Team Derelict Heart, but alls of Fairy Tail. We ain't letting anything happen. Come on, we gotta do this the smart way."

"Maybe I'll just ask Natsu's team to go with me," she snapped. " _They_ won't have a problem rushing in…" She knew she was being ridiculous, but… She didn't know how else to act. Not when Syllest was on the line.

"It ain't happenin,' doll." Piper shook his head.

"Please, Dreamer." Jezran looked at her with kind, pleading eyes. "Allow me to investigate."

"I'll go with you."

Three sets of eyes turned on Macbeth in surprise.

"That is a remarkable idea," Jezran said in approval. "With both of us on the trail, we will cover twice as much ground twice as quickly, dear me."

"Then I'll go too," she stated. "Three people will make it that much faster."

"That simply will not do, dear Dreamer," Jezran shook his head.

"Why not?!" She clenched a fist. A warm breeze ruffled her hair.

"Come on, Dreamy," Piper stepped forward. He reached to her arm, cautiously, like approaching a rabid tiger. She didn't push him away, so he rubbed her arm comfortingly. "If you's go with them, you'll confront Res, even if it ain't safe. Your emotions will get the best of you." He took a step closer, delicately taking her hand in his. "Plus, you's gotta stay here and protect Syllest, don't you?"

She swallowed and looked down at Macbeth's boots.

"If we all leave, whose gonna stick around in case Res comes here? _You's_ oughta stick around, doll."

She wiped her eyes with her wrist, sobbing like a chastised child.

"I… I just… Oh, Piper!" She let out a loud sob and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his white shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close with his wiry muscles.

"Sh, it's okay, Dreamy…" He continued to rub her shoulder in comforting circles. He glanced up over her cream-colored hair to look at Macbeth. The other man met his eyes evenly, but showed no emotion nor intent to oppose Piper's arms around Dreamer. "You's gotta put your faith in Pops and Mac."

"What about you?" She sniffled and looked up at Piper. He gave a cheesy grin.

"I'm stayin' here with my girls, of course!"

She looked back at Jezran and Macbeth. They stood still and silent, waiting for her approval.

"Y-You have to promise to stay in contact with me. Every day."

"Oh yes, dear me." Jezran nodded, hands folded in front of him. "We will use the card system again."

"Macbeth…" She turned, pulling partially out of Piper's embrace, though one arm remained around her shoulder. Her eyes flicked back and forth between pools of red. "You have to promise you'll be safe."

"Worried about me, Dream?" He raised an eyebrow, lip tugging in a slight smirk.

"I-I'm worried about both of you." She fought a blush and looked at both teammates.

"We will be quite sneaky, I assure you," Jezran smiled.

She let out a slow, shaky breath. "…Okay. If Master approves, I'll let you go."

"Everything's gonna work out, Dreamy, just you's wait." Piper ruffled her already messy hair. The morning sunlight shone down on Team Derelict Heart as the decision was made. Come nightfall, Jezran and Macbeth would be boarding a train to hunt for The King of Diamonds.

* * *

 _The Fairy Tail Boys' Dormitory: Piper and Macbeth's Room..._

Macbeth folded his magic carpet and stored it in the pack he'd prepared—on top of a few pairs of warm clothes. He suspected he and Jezran would be gone for a few days, at least. It paid to be prepared.

The door opened and Piper walked into their shared room.

"Pops is ready to go when you's are," he stated.

He closed the pack and straightened up, satisfied. He slung it over his shoulders and turned to face Piper. The gambling-wizard was looking absolutely smug, lips tugged in a grin above a patch of sky-blue hair.

"Have fun on your trip," he gave a wave before going to the window and opening the black curtains Macbeth had put up a while ago. "Finally, sunlight!" He stretched in the afternoon rays, then ran a hand through the long part of his hair. "Don't worry, Mac. I'll look out for Dreamy for you's."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, before heading for the door.

"What? No creepy-ass threats? You's ain't gonna warn me not to's lay a finger on her? Ain't gonna tell me I'll be livin' my worst nightmare if you's come back and she's hooked on my arm?"

He reached for the doorknob. "If I said any of that, it would imply that I care." He opened the door. "And I don't."

"I'll take that as you's givin' me your blessing then!" Piper laughed out loud, stretching his bare arms toward the ceiling.

"Do what you want," he paused in the doorway. Without looking back at the blue-haired man, and with a smirk painted on his lips he said, "Friendly advice, Piper?"

"Huh?" Piper dropped his arms. "What's up?"

His black smirk widened. "She moves a lot when she's sleeping. It can be annoying, so be prepared if you find her in your bed."

Before Piper's could respond, he was out the door.

After a moment of being totally stunned… "WHAT THE HELL YOU'S MEAN, MAC?!" Piper ran to the door, face red and steam rolling from his ears. "HOW'S YOU KNOW THAT?! MAC?! GET BACK HERE, DAMMIT!"

But Macbeth's coat-tail was already slipping around the corner.

* * *

 _Later that evening, at the Magnolia Train Station..._

Dreamer faced him, while they waited for the last train of the afternoon to be ready for boarding. She stared at the straps on his boots, quiet, shaky. Finally, she looked up at Macbeth, her cherry blossom eyes swimming with emotion.

"Please, be careful."

They stood facing each other, only inches apart. The train station wasn't bustling, but a few people sat on benches, reading newspapers. Jezran sat on a nearby bench, reading as well. He cast them only one knowing glance before pulling spectacles out of his pocket and humming to himself.

"Are you going to miss me, sweet Dream?" His voice was low and teasing. He tilted his head down as he spoke to her, causing a curtain of white and black hair to fall. She noticed that his hair had grown since she first brought him to Fairy Tail, and he seemed to be favoring its natural curls over straightening it daily. She certainly wasn't going to complain.

"I…" Her instinct was to deny it. Instead, her cheeks took some of the color from her eyes and she whispered, "yes."

"Dream…" He tilted his head forward a bit more, until his curls brushed her cream strands. He lifted his fingers to her jaw, but not forcefully. He tucked hair behind her ear so that he could bring his lips closer.

His closeness made her heart stampede in her chest. His scent—so reminiscent of chamomile, comforting and consuming. The skin of his fingertips on her jaw. His warm breath on the sensitive flesh of her ear…

"If I find Resmond," he whispered. "I'm going to inflict so much pain on him, that the torture of hell couldn't even compare."

His words were horrifying. And yet… The passionate fire behind them still made her shiver with excitement. He was promising her this, not out of his own sadistic desire, but _for_ her.

"Thank you…" Her voice quavered. "But, Macbeth…" She instinctively nuzzled her face against his hair and collar. "Don't put yourself in unnecessary danger, please… I would rather have you come back safe, than you kill Resmond at the cost of your own life."

"You have so little faith in me," he pulled back and poked her nose. "I am Midnight, the infamous Night Terror. Resmond can't kill me, not in his wildest dreams." He smirked widely, confidently. It made her giggle.

"You're right." She smiled up at him and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "Goodbye, Macbeth."

"Goodbye, Dreamer." His eyes remained on hers for another long moment.

"W-Well, what are you staring at? Go!" She blushed brightly, wringing her hands together in nervousness.

"I can't. The train isn't here."

"O-Oh, yeah…" She swallowed and tugged on her hair. "Then, I-I'll go!"

She didn't move. Neither did he. His eyes were as intense and unmoving as ever. _Why does he always have to STARE?_

"What are you waiting for, Dream?" he teased, one eyebrow raised.

"I…" She had no idea!

"Are you anticipating another kiss?" His smirk was pure evil.

"Wh-What?! No!" She flailed her arms in panic. "I-I… N-No! And don't say that! We didn't even kiss! You just put your lipstick on my head to embarrass me! It doesn't even count!"

"Oh?" He cocked his head slightly, eyes gleaming. "Should I give you a kiss that would count, then?"

"NO!" She shoved his chest, blushing from head to toe. "I'm _definitely_ not walking around with your lipstick on my lips!" She gasped at her own slip up. "A-And that's not the only reason I don't want you to kiss me! I-I mean…"

The look of pure amusement on his face was enough to scar her for weeks.

"Whatever! GoodBYE." She huffed and turned on her heels. She heard his low laugh as she walked away. She bid a farewell to Jezran, then paused before she reached the steps of the train station. She turned and gave Macbeth one last warm smile. He must not have been expecting this, because his eyes widened slightly and… well, it could have just been the reddish light of sunset, but it sort of looked like… he was blushing too.


	46. Debt

**Chapter 46: Debt**

It was a long train ride to Iceberg. They traveled through the night, making a stop at the border of Bosco and Stella. Jezran had made sure to get them an enclosed booth on the train. They needed to be as hidden from the public eye as possible, as this was a stealth mission. Macbeth slept on and off through the ride. Jezran did not sleep. He remained staring out the window at the dark shapes going by.

When the train stopped at the border, he closed his eyes and smiled fondly at memories. "Dear me…" he mumbled thoughtfully to himself. "Do you know, I first met dear Dreamer here, in Stella. Less than a mile from this spot."

Macbeth, who had been somewhere between sleep and a darkened state of wakefulness, opened his eyes. He sat cross legged and arms folded, across from the old man. There was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"Oh?" He knew how Dreamer and Piper had met. He'd gotten that whole story in a restaurant near Love and Lucky. He realized he knew almost nothing about Jezran. The old man was a mystery—who often faded into the background to play the role of the kind butler, always bringing Dreamer mustard sandwiches. Macbeth didn't even know what magic he used, yet guild members often spoke highly of his tracking abilities, and he could vaguely remember him using those abilities in Rose Garden to track Syllest.

"Shall I tell you the story, Macbeth?" Jezran smiled warmly under a white-streaked mustache.

"There's nothing else to do for the next couple of hours," he pointed out. "It might quell my boredom."

"Very well then, dear me." The old man chuckled. He folded his hands on his lap and closed his eyes, drawing forth bittersweet memories.

"You see, before I met the charming young lady, I was a debt collector," he said, after a long moment.

"You haven't always been a butler?" Macbeth couldn't resist this interjection. Jezran merely smiled. He didn't continue to explain, so Macbeth raised an eyebrow and shuffled in his seat. "Debt collecting. Not a particularly respectable job." He remembered Piper talking about how Dreamer had essentially rescued both Jezran and himself from dark lives, as she had now done with the assassin-turned-fairy. But, while debt collectors might be considered scummy, it didn't seem like the type of life-style one might need saving from.

"No, not respectable at all, dear me." Jezran gave a quiet laugh. "Particularly unrespectable when one is a juice-collector for the Excalibur Family."

"Juice-collector?" He cocked his head to the side, inquiringly.

Jezran's smile didn't falter. He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took it off, folding it neatly before setting it on the seat beside him. Macbeth raised an eyebrow as the older man began to unbutton his white dress-shirt next. Underneath, he wore only a white muscle-shirt. He removed the dress shirt completely, folding it and placing it on top of the suit jacket.

Macbeth's lips parted in shock, eyes widening.

The docile old man's chest and arms were thick with muscle—though it wasn't his surprising fitness that caused the breath to catch in Macbeth's throat.

It was the tattoos.

They covered his arms completely, sleeves of ink. It was apparent that they continued below the collar of his shirt and over his shoulders. Besides this, there were many pale scars that tore through the designs of the ink, some that looked like burns, others that looked like knife wounds. He lifted his shirt to reveal a tattoo over his heart, printed on a muscular pectoral. The image was a crest of some kind. A shield with a sword pointed downward, lodged in stone, surrounded by ancient lettering.

"You see, dear me," Jezran said, his kind voice and mustached smile totally unbefitting of the form he had just revealed, "when I say I was a debt collector for the Excalibur Family, I mean, it was my job to ensure, by _any means necessary_ , that those in debt to the Family paid their fines. Could they not pay in jule, _I_ was responsible for making them pay in blood."

Macbeth felt the color drain from his cheeks. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just stared at the tattoos and listened to the tick of the old man's pocket watch.

"The Excalibur Family…" he swallowed nervously. "They're a gang, aren't they? And you were a thug."

The man pulled his shirt back down and unfolded his dress shirt to put it back on. "On the surface, the Excalibur Family is the most respectable, wealthy family in Pergrande, besides the royal family of course. Beneath the surface, dear me, my Family is the most feared presence in the underworld." He slid the dress shirt on and began to button it back up, hiding the tattoos away again. "I would hardly say I was a common thug, however." His eyes seemed dull. "I was the final stage to the collection of debts. When someone had failed to pay their debts after three warnings, it was I who was called."

Macbeth felt an unwarranted tremble go down his spine. He had no idea this man was so powerful and frightening. He could never have guessed that, under the kindhearted façade, a feared power-house lurked.

Jezran fixed his cuffs as he continued. "Five years ago, I was collecting a debt in Stella. The debtor was a man who had borrowed a loan from the Family to start a business, but his business had tanked, dear me, and he owed a great deal of money. It was approximately 1:00 AM, in the south-east district of town between Cherry Grove street and Mella Avenue. It was a brisk night, possibly between fifty-seven and sixty-two degrees farenheight. The alleyway was located between an abandoned sewing facility and a bakery. I had confronted the man some thirty feet from the street, where the light from the streetlamp could not reveal us, dear me."

His attention to detail was astounding. That he could remember this much five years later, only added to Macbeth's newfound awe.

"I struck him eight times, once in the lower abdomen, twice in the ribcage, once in the inner thigh, and four in the face. I took great care not to knock him unconscious of course, as one can only truly learn a lesson if they are conscious for it, dear me. It was as I raised my brass-adorned knuckles for a ninth time, that a rather unexpected thing occurred." He pulled on his suit jacket as his expression grew fond. "A toddler, no more than two years of age, wandered into the alley."

"Syllest."

"Indeed." He closed his eyes again and leaned back, once his suit jacket was buttoned. "I was surprised, to say the least. It is an icy feeling, to stare into the pink eyes of an innocent child—one whom can barely maintain balance on her fawn-like feet—whilst holding a man by the collar, your hands dripping with his blood."

Macbeth shivered and rubbed his arms. He thought back to the night in the graveyard, when a child's mother told him that her son had witnessed him kill his father, from a closet.

"Unfortunately, following her almost immediately, was a girl. She was no more than a child, herself. Fifteen years of age—far too young to be caring for a toddler alone. Far too young to be as gaunt, hungry, and dirty as she was." He looked grim as the memory of a homeless Dreamer and Syllest flashed in his mind.

"I had no choice, dear me, but to take them." He gave a long sigh. "The young woman was a witness to my crime, and she had seen the Excalibur Family name printed on my skin. Thus, I held them for the night in a nearby motel, room number twelve, as I tried to decide what to do with them."

"Did she use her magic on you? Dreamer?" Macbeth was completely immersed in the story. He felt himself leaning forward, cocking his head to the side.

"I imagine she must have, dear me." He chuckled. "Perhaps I would not have taken such compassion on them, had she not. At any rate, obviously, I could not bring myself to dispose of the girls, dear me. Nor could my conscience allow them to continue to live as they had been. When the girl told me they had been on the streets for two years… Her, and an infant, after she witnessed the grotesque murder of her own sister, I simply could not leave them alone."

"So you joined them?" He guessed. He twisted a curl with his finger, engrossed.

"Not quite, dear me." Jezran looked out the window again, as the train began to slowly return to speed. "I felt I could not leave the Family on the account of two children, so I did what I considered best. I bought them a home in Stella and sent them money regularly. I was able to keep this up for exactly seven months and three days. I visited them when I could manage, and each time I did, dear me, young Dreamer would attempt to convince me that I was better than a debt-collector for the Excalibur Family. She saw endless potential in me, naturally."

Macbeth couldn't help the smile that touched his cheeks. Yes, that sounded exactly like Dreamer.

"Unfortunately, dear me… I was careless. An enemy gang had been watching my movements. Once they learned of my harboring the girls, they made a move. They took Dreamer and Syllestra hostage."

"You let them take her?" He spoke without thinking, the words spilling from his lips as he responded to the unbelievable tale.

Jezran met his eyes levelly, his expression sad. "There is nothing I regret more in this life, dear me."

He folded his hands back on his lap. "The Family ordered me to remain still and not make a move, but I could not stand for that, dear me. I tracked the girls and stormed the enemy's stronghold." Fury flashed in his brown eyes. "When at last I held the boss of this gang of cretins at knife-point, dear Dreamer called out to me. She begged me not to kill him. You have been in the same situation, if I recall."

Macbeth gave a brief nod. Yes, Dreamer had stopped him from killing the grunt on the rooftops who'd kidnapped Syllest.

"At her behest, I obeyed." He nodded. "However, I could no longer continue to harbor the girls without the knowledge of the Excalibur Family, so I escorted them to the estate in Pergrande. I willingly handed over my rights as heir to the family, in exchange for the freedom and life of the girls. I—"

"Rights as heir?" He interrupted.

"Oh yes, dear me, did I forget to mention that?" He gave a deep-bellied laugh. "I am the eldest son of Arturus Gallavantia Excalibur, head of the Excalibur Family."

Macbeth's eye twitched.

"I asked to hand my rights to my younger brother, Terrence, in exchange for the safety of the girls. My family agreed. More than that," he smiled warmly, "after what I suspect was some charming on the part of that rascal, Dreamer, my father welcomed Dreamer and Syllestra into the Excalibur Family as adopted children. This simply means that, should we ever ask for it, the Family will loyally supply the resources and help necessary to the girls, as if they were one of our own. It does well to have such a powerful ally, dear me."

"How did you end up in Fairy Tail with them?" Macbeth asked.

"The girls had successfully captured my heart after these escapades, dear me." He laughed again, stroking his mustache in thought. "I simply could not abandon them again, so, with my father's blessing, I joined them, as their guardian. It was my idea, dear me, to escort them to Fiore. I had heard good things about the guild and its devoted loyalty to its members. With the protection of both the Excalibur Family, _and_ the Fairy Tail family, surely no harm would ever befall these precious treasures I had found."

A few moments went by. Macbeth leaned back against the seat, taking it all in. So, Dreamer had reformed a debt-collector/mob prince, an alcoholic gambler, and now an ex-assassin. What _couldn't_ she do?

Neither man spoke for a few minutes. Finally, Jezran leaned forward, elbows rested on his knees, chin resting on his knuckles. His expression was serious as he looked at Macbeth from the shorter space between them.

"Macbeth, those girls are special." His tone was meaningful. "In all of Earthland, there are none like them. Understand, that you have taken a burden of responsibility upon your shoulders by joining Team Derelict Heart. Should any harm befall Dreamer or Syllestra, you will be held responsible, as will myself and Piper, dear me."

Macbeth swallowed nervously at the depth of the expression in the old man's eyes.

"Dear Dreamer cares for you." His hands tightened on each other. "She trusts you. That being said." He cracked his knuckles, gaze never leaving Macbeth's. "If you hurt her, that will be a debt you will never be able to repay."

He understood the threat, loud and clear. He averted his gaze, still shaking slightly. Satisfied, the old man sat up straight again.

"Now," Jezran's voice took back on its cheerful quality. "Let us work together to put an end to the threat of the King of Diamonds on our beloved treasures. Family must be protected, at all costs, would you not agree, Macbeth?"

"Don't worry, _Pops_ ," for the first time, Macbeth used the nickname given to him. "When I'm done with Resmond, he'll never be able to hurt Dreamer or Syllest again. I'm going to make him pay his debt in full."

Jezran laughed out loud. "Dear me, that is what I like to hear, dear me. Then let us collect his debt, for Dreamer."

 _For Family._

* * *

 **A/N: There you have it! Some backstory on Jezran Excalibur! I know it was a long time coming, but finally you guys get to see a bit more of who he is.  
**

 **Just a note on that, in case it seems to ridiculously convenient that Dreamer would have a rich and powerful mob on her side... I hope to imply that, first of all, the sheer distance between Fiore and Pergrande makes any help they could receive from the Excalibur family limited, at least in terms of time. Secondly, it should be clear that asking favors from a gang doesn't ever come free. I'm saying this so that you can rest assured that I won't be using the Excalibur family as some deus ex machina. I make light of Jezran's wealth because it's funny as a gag, but in reality, any money he receives from the Family would come only with promises of services. He basically came from the mafia. xD**

 **Also, Simana, the fact that you watched a Fairy Tail episode and imagined Team Derelict Heart in it, has completely fulfilled my dreams as a fanfiction writer. I can now die in peace. Though... I suppose I should wait to die until I finish this fic, huh? Otherwise, you guys might kill me. xD**

 **As always, thank you for your kind reviews and messages! Please, tell me your thoughts and any questions or clarifications you need, so that I can make sure I'm consistently making sense as the plot begins to pick up pace!**


	47. The Tune You Dance To

**A/N: I'm not sure what happened with the chapter I posted on Thursday. I think the site failed to send out email notifications that I had published the chapter. So, if anyone hasn't read it yet, go back a page and have fun~**

* * *

 **Chapter 47: The Tune You Dance To**

It was early afternoon. Dreamer tapped a stack of papers on the library desk and put them in a folder. The records relating to the last few jobs she'd done, as well as all of Piper and Macbeth's reports, since they were for some reason incapable of writing their own. She slid the folder on the table where Freed was doing calculations. He wordlessly set it in a pile to his left. She smiled and left the library.

The clock in the guild hall told her that it was time to go pick Syllestra up from school. She stretched for a moment, spine cracking after sitting in the library for so long. Her fingers went to her jacket pocket, where a card with chibi versions of Macbeth and Jezran was stored. She pulled it out and looked at it with pinched lips. The two of the hadn't called her yet today. They'd been gone for three days now, and not a moment went by where she wasn't consumed by anxiety and worry for them. She fixed her eyes on the cartoonish face of Macbeth, with its oversized red eyes and black smirk. Mindlessly, she touched the face of the card with her pinky, tracing the image's curly hair.

"Hey, Dreamy."

A familiar, gruff voice made her jerk in surprise. She quickly slid the card back into her pocket, embarrassed at the strange behavior. She turned with her biggest and best smile to face Piper.

He stood with his hands buried in saggy jean pockets. He wore a black, sleeveless jacket with no shirt underneath, open to reveal his chest and stomach. Black combat boots, styled blue hair, gauges in his ears, sky blue hair and goatee working to accentuate his green eyes, which looked uncharacteristically nervous.

"Hello, Piper." She smiled warmly at him, despite the way her magic immediately picked up on the strong emotion emanating from him. He was… _Scared. Sick. Determined._

"Hey, ain't that the jacket I bought you's for your birthday?" He scanned her over.

"It is!" she grinned and did a small curtsy in the chic, black trimmed jacket.

"Looks good, Dreamy." He grinned right back, but then his cheeks took some color and he quickly looked away. "You's going to pick up Syllest?"

She nodded.

"Mind if I walk with you?"

The power of his nervousness was making her stomach churn. She resisted the call of her magic to absorb it from him, and managed a slight shake of the head. "I don't mind. Let's go!"

He fell in step with her as they exited the guild hall and began to walk east toward the school where Romeo and Syllest spent their weekdays. They were quiet—the afternoon sun baring down on their shoulders.

"You heard from Pops and Mac yet?" Piper asked, as if fishing for conversation.

"Not today," she answered. "But I'm sure they're okay."

"Yeah, they're tough lugs for sure." He cleared his throat. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he nervously scratched the shaved side of his hair. "Yo, Dreamy… I think it's time you's and I had a chat."

She swallowed a lump in her throat. Her suspicions were correct. She knew exactly what Piper wanted to talk about. She kept her eyes forward, down on the sidewalk. "Go ahead," she braced herself.

"I'm just gonna jump right in." He took a deep breath. She sensed his fear escalate into something like a nauseous terror. "You know how I feel about you, right?"

She tugged on the hem of her jacket, feeling her stomach twist at the confrontation. She was glad they were walking and not facing each other. "I—I'm not sure what you—"

"Don't play games with me, doll." He stopped walking suddenly. She took another two steps before she turned to face him. He was looking at her straight on, his jaw clenched, hands still buried in his pockets. "You knows I got feelings for you."

Of course she knew.

"Dammit, Dreamy…" He bit his lip and forced himself to keep her gaze. "You know I love you."

The confession hung in the air between them.

She continued to play with the hem of her jacket, repeatedly rubbing a seam. She stared down at his black combat boots, as if fascinated by the scuff marks on the toes. "…Yes, I know." She swallowed a lump in her throat and made herself look up at him. She forced her signature, warm smile. "I love you too, Piper."

The bitter tug on the corner of his smile spoke volumes. "Yeah," his words were an exhausted sigh. "But you's and me both know you don't mean it the way I do."

Shame colored her cheeks. She'd never known how to deal with Piper's feelings. He was her friend, as close to her heart as Mirajane. They were family, and she couldn't imagine a life where Piper wasn't threaded through every part of it. There was even a time where she thought that maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could return the feelings he had for her. But, she knew it just wasn't possible. And she was afraid to tell him that. Afraid of hurting him and afraid of ruining their family. Still, she always knew the day would come when they had to have this talk.

"I need ta hear you say it, Dreamy." He took a small step closer to her. The desperation shone in his eyes. In fact, they looked moist, like he was fighting back tears. "I gotta hear you's tell me I ain't got a chance with you." His hands bundled into fists in his loose pockets. She had a feeling he was clenching his dice. "When the game's over, I can walk away."

She felt tears welling in her own eyes. She wiped them away with her jacket sleeve. Unable to find the words at the moment, she instinctively closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. She buried her face against his bare chest, and felt the gasp in his lungs. He wrapped his arms around her in response.

"I'm sorry, Piper…" she said quietly. "I've never felt that way about you."

He continued to hold her in the embrace, his hands stroking her shoulders comfortingly. He released a long, slow sigh. Finally, she looked up at him, at the rugged face of a man she truly cared for—but not in the way he needed her to.

"I'm so sorry if I led you on or made you think—"

"Nah." He shook his head, and gently but firmly pushed her away. "You weren't mean, doll." He smiled sadly, but she could tell he felt relieved. "You's were pretty clear how you felt. I just didn't wanna accept it."

"But I _do_ care about you, Piper!" She resisted the urge to hug him again. "I don't know how I'd ever live without you and Pops and Mira. You're my family."

He nodded, averting his gaze again. Another awkward silence ensued. She was glad that the horror she had felt from him earlier had dissipated, but she could still feel _rejection, disappointment, frustration._ She wanted to use her magic to remove the painful feelings, but she knew this was something he needed to feel. This was inevitable.

Another minute ticked by. She still needed to pick up Syllest. "Pip—"

"You dig him?" he asked suddenly.

She blinked, uncomprehending.

"Mac," he iterated. "Do you dig him?"

There was an uncomfortable fluttering in her stomach. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, her eyelashes flutter. "I…"

"Tell me upfront, doll." He finally pulled his hands out of his pocket and crossed them over his chest. "Does that freak get you off?"

The crude language of the question took her by surprise. "Piper… don't do that…" She couldn't handle an argument right now.

He sighed and dropped his arms. "I'm sorry." An awkward cough. "I ain't lookin' to pick a fight. I just wanna know if you's dig him, that's all."

Dreamer swallowed. She closed her eyes and pictured Macbeth's face. His pale skin, and eyes the swirling color of blood. His plum-colored lips and the amused smirk that played on them whenever he looked at her. The way they parted, ever so slightly, when he was scared. The way they had drawn close to hers, if only for a moment, in the dark of the guild garden. The soft texture against the skin of her forehead. She thought of his scent, reminiscent of chamomile and metal, the way it made bumps rise on her flesh when it tickled her neck. His hair, so thick and coarse, but amazingly soft. The way the curls naturally wrapped around her fingers. His low voice, when he spoke to her in the quiet. His arms tugging her close as she laid in his bed. The quiet murmuring against her hair as he slept…

"…Yes." She admitted it, in no more than a whisper. _I love him._ "But please, Piper… Don't compare yourself to him."

"Dreamy, it's okay." Piper smiled, a real genuine smile. "I gets it."

"You do?" she blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," he chuckled and started walking again. She stood frozen for a moment before falling into step with him. "I mean, I'm pissed and jealous as hell," he said, "and I don't know what you's see in that sadistic bastard, but… Well, it's like this. I ain't the tune you dance to. I'm bluegrass and he's metalcore. I can't change your taste in music, doll, like I can't change the fact that Mac's the guy you's want."

She let out a breath of relief, amazed at Piper's willing acceptance of her feelings.

"Just do me a solid and keep the flirting with him down to a minimum around me, alright?" He grumbled. "I can't takes seeing you looking at the bastard like you's want his tongue down your throat right then and there."

"Piper!"

"Well, that's the way you's look at him!" he snapped.

"D-Do I really?" She touched her blushing cheeks.

"Yeah, Dreamy. It's like you's got eyes only for Mac." There was only a tinge of bitterness to his tone. It seemed like, for the most part, he'd accepted the situation for what it was.

She blushed deeper as they turned the corner toward Syllest's school.

A moment of awkwardness ensued.

"I could say the same about a certain someone," she said, directing the attention off her relationship with Macbeth.

He glanced at her. "What's that, doll?"

"I can't believe you haven't noticed, Piper," she laughed. "You're denser than Natsu sometimes."

"What are you going on about, Dreamy?" he narrowed his eyes.

"Cana, of course!"

He stopped in his tracks. A bird cawed overhead.

"The _hell_ is that supposed to mean?" he gaped at her. "What about Cana?"

Dreamer sighed and faced him again with an amused smile. "You're the tune she dances to, Piper."

His cheeks flashed red, eyes widening in total shock. "No way, that ain't true."

"Piper." She put her hands on her hips and gave him a look that said _seriously?_ "I specialize in emotions, in case you forgot. Trust me, she 'digs' you."

He scratched his head, looking sheepish and confused. "S-She's my pal. It ain't like we… It's not… Y-You really think she's got the hots for me?"

"I do." Dreamer nodded seriously. "And honestly, Piper, if you realized how happy you get when you're around her, maybe you'd realize that you like her too."

"W-Wha… I don't."

"Emotion. Mage." She pointed at herself.

Piper chewed on his lip, scratched his head, and shuffled his feet, thoroughly embarrassed. "B-But, it ain't…"

"Come on, let's get Syllest." She tugged on his arm. He stumbled after her, in a state of shock. She rolled her eyes and laughed at him—at one of her best friends. She was glad this conversation had ended on a good note. A deep sense of relief washed over the two of them. That was one less thing either of them had to worry about. Now, they could focus on other things.

Like the tunes they danced to.


	48. The Trail Of Blood

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm not sure what's up right now with the email notifications and reviews. I hope it's been dealt with. Either way, I'm still posting chapters!**

* * *

 **Chapter 48: The Trail of Blood**

The icy wind whipped snow around them in swirls. Two figures, trudging through an ankle-deep sea of white. Their identities hidden by the thick coats, hoods, and face-masks they wore to fend off the ungodly cold. Their breaths puffed out from the fabric of their masks to be immediately picked up by the wind.

Silhouettes of buildings stood out against the backdrop of white. It was their destination. A village of indigenous people—people accustomed to living in the frigid environment. People who hid deeply in their homes when they saw the strangers approaching.

One of the figures fished in a pocket with a gloved hand to withdraw a golden pocketwatch. He opened it and watched the needles spin rapidly under the glass. "This must be it, dear me," he said, voice muffled.

The other figure pulled down his hood to reveal dual-colored black and white hair. His red eyes gleamed against the white snow as he gazed at their surroundings.

Jezran and Macbeth had been traveling for three days in the country of Iceberg. Their tracking had led them here, to a village that was supposedly once where the original Diamant Blanc had gathered. High in the northern mountains of iceberg.

Macbeth wasted no time. Since there were no villagers wandering on the icy paths, he went to the first door he saw and knocked heavily. There was shuffling from inside, but no one answered.

"It seems unlikely these villagers will be very hospitable, dear me," Jezran said.

"Your compass won't point toward the device?" Macbeth asked as he shook snow from his coat.

"No, the interference is too strong. His magical energy seems to be everywhere."

Macbeth furrowed his brow as he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He knelt to pick up an object sitting beside the door to this home. It was an idol of some sort, a symbol that showed a figure in a hood.

It was made entirely from black diamond.

Jezran examined the strange torches that were scattered along the sides of the path. Fire burned inside of cages, somehow untouched by the wind or snow. Perhaps because of the thin, black diamond lacrima material surrounding them.

These weren't the only indicators that their target had been here. When Macbeth kicked the snow away from the path and re-examined the black ice that had formed on the stone, he realized it wasn't black ice at all. It was, of course, diamond.

He pounded on the door again. "Tell us where he is! The King of Diamonds!"

No response.

Jezran sighed and tapped his watch before securing it back in his pocket. "Resmond's magical energy is in every diamond here. I will not be able to track him beyond this village." The old man approached another door and knocked, far softer than Macbeth had. "Please, we do not wish you harm, dear me. We are simply looking for information. Give it to us and we will be on our way at once."

A woman's eyes peered nervously at him from between the cracks in the wood.

"Dear me, do trust us." Jezran pulled down the fabric covering his mouth and gave her a mustached smile. The woman quickly darted from the door. From across the small building, her muffled voice could be heard.

" _Respondeat superior_!"

Macbeth had moved on to the next house, where he was issuing threats of endless nightmares to someone locked inside. A man's voice echoed what the woman had said.

" _Respondeat superior!"_

Macbeth cursed and joined Jezran back in the center of the path. Frustration was evident in his eyes. Jezran pulled the mask back up over his own face to stop avoid developing a frozen mustache. He sighed heavily, breath coming out like a cloud.

" _Respondeat superior_ ," he said, meaningfully.

"What does that mean?" Macbeth snapped.

"It means, 'let the master answer.'" The old man explained. He closed his eyes and thought. "It means, they will not answer us."

"We'll see about that." Macbeth trudged further up the path, dead-set and determined. There was a slightly larger building at the end of the path. Maybe a church or the residence of the leader of this village. He chose this building and, instead of knocking, kicked the door in with the heel of his boot.

A man, who must have been leaning against the door, stumbled and fell backward at Macbeth's feet. He was an old man with long hair and a collection of necklaces around his neck—all of them sporting black diamond charms. He held his hands up defensively.

Dark magic whirred around Macbeth's hand. He tried to tighten the necklaces around the man's neck, but cursed when his magic refused to work anywhere near the black charms. He opted instead for clutching the man by the collar and hoisting him to his feet.

If Jezran had a problem with this tactic, he didn't show it. He stood a few feet behind Macbeth with his arms folded across his chest.

"We're looking for someone," Macbeth said, his voice low and threatening. "The man who gave you those diamonds. The same one who has been directing slave transport through your village."

The man's eyes were beady and terrified. " _Respondeat superior, respondeat superior_!" he squeaked, hands grasping at his collar.

"Let the master answer," Macbeth said. His eyes flashed dangerously. "Tell us where your master is, so that we can get our answers."

The man gasped, gurgling because of the painful tightness around his throat. He pointed a shaking finger to the north-east and uttered something in a language Macbeth didn't understand. He looked over his shoulder at Jezran.

"He says there is a cave not far from here. Follow the riverbed to find the master."

Macbeth smirked but did not release the man. His fingers twitched as pinched the collar a bit tighter. His heart jumped as he watched the man struggled for breath.

"Macbeth," Jezran called out from behind him. "Remember who you are, dear me."

The dual-haired mage scowled, but finally released the man, his eyes softening. Without another word, he started in the direction the man had pointed. Jezran was quick to follow.

The blizzard cleared as they walked. The sky remained a thick shade of gray, and snow continued to fall, but not with the ferocity that it had before. The two men walked at the bottom of an empty riverbed that twisted at the base of steep, craggy hills.

They were close, he could feel it. Close to the man who threatened to take away the only things that mattered to him anymore. The thought of making that man pay—making him writhe in agony—sped both Macbeth's heart and his pace.

"Dear me, stop for a moment!"

He stopped in his tracks and looked back at his teammate. Jezran had knelt in the snow and was examining something dark on the surface. His face tilted up, eyes continuing down the path they were following. Macbeth looked as well. His eyes widened.

Every few feet, the snow was stained red.

"Blood."

"It is fresh," Jezran said. "The snow has not had time to cover it."

It was only then that Macbeth noticed the footsteps that accompanied the trail of blood. Footsteps that had been lightly dusted over with snow, but were still apparent.

"We must proceed with caution, dear me."

Macbeth nodded and the two of them decided to climb the slope to follow the riverbed from above, where they could be somewhat hidden in the case of an attack. They continued to travel, looking down at the trail of blood on the riverbed floor. The droplets appeared to be growing in frequency and size, staining large areas of snow a bright shade of red now.

Ahead of them, the mouth of a cave came into view. The riverbed led directly into its mouth, along with the trail of blood, which was so fresh now that steam still rose from the hot liquid.

Macbeth and Jezran shared a look. It didn't appear as though there were any other way to get inside this cave, and there was no telling what lie beyond. There could be slaves, an army, Resmond and the Nikolana Device…

In wordless agreement, the descended the slope and entered the dark mouth of the cave.

When they stepped inside, they were stunned by the walls of the tunnel around them. This cave shimmered, made entirely out of white, glowing diamond. There was no mistaking they were in the right place, the place where Diamant Blanc practiced their magic.

The trail of blood at their feet was no longer a collection of droplets. Now, it was a path itself, as if blood had poured at a steady torrent here. Macbeth frowned under his mask. The amount of blood they were finding no longer seemed reasonably human. He wasn't sure a single person could have lost this much blood and not be lying dead nearby.

Ahead of them, the cave opened into a massive cavern. They walked to the ledge of what appeared to be a crater in the floor. An empty crater. No sign of slaves, an army, diamonds, or a device.

"I don't understand..." Macbeth slid down the side of the crater toward its center, despite Jezran's protest. He knelt, took off a glove, and touched the ground. It was stirred dirt, unlike the walls of the diamond cavern. Hundreds of footprints were stamped in the soft earth, signs that someone _had_ been here before.

He examined the strange crater. Its jagged slopes and scraped sides. His hand curled into a fist.

"He moved it." His voice shook with rage. "Resmond moved the Nikolana Device. It's not here anymore. _He's_ not here."

"That would seem to be the case, dear me." Jezran said from the ledge.

Macbeth gritted his teeth and slammed his fists into the soil. "Dammit!" His voice was the broken cry of a child. "What are we supposed to do now? We don't have any other leads!" He trembled in the fury, in the fear.

He shook there for a moment, fighting tears. Something warm splashed on the back of his ungloved hand. He wiped his eyes, thinking that a stray tear had escaped, but they were dry. His gaze went to his hand, clutching soil in front of him. Another drop of something wet splattered on his knuckle.

Bright red on his pale skin. Thick, as it slid along his fingers into the soil.

Blood.

"Macbeth! MOVE!"

He rolled suddenly to the right, narrowly dodging something that had dropped from the ceiling of the cavern and now sizzled in the turned earth, sending steam rising in the cold air. Where Macbeth had been kneeling, there was now a pool of blood.

His gaze turned to the ceiling. There, hanging upside down like a bat, wrapped in a cloak of white, with matching white strands of hair and skin, was a man.

He dropped from the ceiling, white cloak fluttering as he fell and landed on his feet in front of Macbeth.

He was tall and slender, with skin the color of the snow. White, layered hair framed his face and hung to his shoulders, feathering around a slender neck. He had a regal air about him, posture straight, sharp chin tilted upward in an almost smug fashion. His lips were pale, and his eyes—were just as red and consuming as Macbeth's.

Under the white cloak he was dressed like a noble, with a black diamond broach centered on a white lapel. The nails at the end of his long fingers were red, dripping with blood.

"Good evening," the man said, in a voice that matched his regal appearance.

Macbeth stood, feet shoulder-width apart—facing his opponent. He narrowed his eyes and did not return the sentiment.

"You must be Macbeth," the man continued, politely, though his red eyes gleamed hungrily.

"You…" Macbeth scanned him over. "You're not Resmond." Whatever magic this man used was not the black-diamond ability that touched everywhere Resmond had been. There was something strange about the sense of energy surrounding this man.

"Astute observation," the man grinned, revealing two glimmering-white fangs. "Indeed, I am not the King. I am afraid you will not have an audience with him tonight." He held one arm outward, fingers toward the ground. "Hopefully you will not be too disappointed. I will do my best to keep you entertained in his absence." The blood from the pool at his feet suddenly began to rise at the beckon of his white fingers. It circled his outstretched hand.

There was a thud on the soil next to Macbeth as Jezran leapt to stand at his side.

"Beware, dear me. This man is not to be trifled with."

Without warning, the man leaped. His fingers were outstretched like claws, slashing forward with the added might of the blood that circled his hand.

"Blood-Dragon Claws!" He swept downward, leaving a trail of boiling blood in the wake. Macbeth reflected the blood back at the last minute, and watched it splatter back at the wizard, speckling his white cloak red. Jezran met the man's outstretched arm with a kick, protecting Macbeth from the strike. The man landed and immediately bounded up to the ledge of the crater. He stared down at them with a wicked smirk.

"Dragon-slayer magic," Jezran said in disbelief.

"You are not mistaken," he held his arms out and blood swirled around both of his hands. "I am Sânge, the Blood-Dragon Slayer."

* * *

 **A/N: Introducing the last major OC you will meet in this fic. Sânge! I hope the fact that I've introduced a dragon-slayer doesn't come off as cliche or unbelievable. I'm actually incredibly fond of this character, who was initially just meant to be around for this one battle, but, as you'll see, has much more of an impact on the story than a minor villain. I'm dying to know what you all think of him.**

 **And Ori, I'm sorry about Pipe Dream, I know you shipped them. xD But come on, Canaper has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? ;)**


	49. A Dragon's Fear

**Chapter 49: A Dragon's Fear**

"I am Sânge, the Blood-Dragon Slayer."

Macbeth and Jezran looked up at him, standing on the ledge of the crater. The blood-speckled wizard smirked arrogantly down, and offered a low bow.

"As you may have guessed," he continued, "I am the right-hand man of the King of Diamonds, and I have been tasked with the honor of draining every ounce of blood from the bodies of one Macbeth, and Jezran Excalibur." He righted himself and met Macbeth's eyes—red on red. "It is my understanding that you enjoy a bloody battle, yes? I have heard as much from Giseld."

Macbeth glowered at him for a moment, before a dark smirk touched his own lips. "Seeing someone like you crying out in pain would definitely ease my boredom."

"We are cut from the same cloth, it would seem." The white-haired mage gave a nod of approval. "I too relish the suffering of powerful opponents." He jumped into the air, as red wings of blood extended from his shoulder blades. "In that case, let us commence at once."

"Remember your end goal, Macbeth," Jezran said quietly—reminding him not to forget that they were here for the protection of Dreamer and Syllest, not for sadistic kicks. Still, that didn't mean Macbeth couldn't have at least a little bit of fun.

He sidestepped another slash from the dragon-slayer, as he dove from above, with outstretched wings. The wings dematerialized quickly, as Sânge turned to kick upwards toward Macbeth's head. He ducked and struck toward the dragon-slayer's stomach, just to be blocked by his knee. At the same time, Jezran raised a hand to karate chop the back of the man's neck. Sânge blocked with his forearm, before jumping in midair and spinning to kick the old man.

The three of them continued in this martial manner, delivering punches and kicks, which Sânge expertly blocked and avoided. The fact that one man could fend off both of them, already spoke of his power and skill. Once Sânge realized he wouldn't have an opportunity to strike while defending, he leapt back into the air and flew upward.

"Blood Dragon Roar!" He opened his mouth wide, baring both white fangs. Immediately, red liquid gushed from his mouth at impressive speed, toward Macbeth. The reflector-mage's eyes widened, but he was quick enough to reflect the attack back at the other man. The stream of blood turned and shot at Sânge. There was enough fluid, at enough force, that it would have drowned its target if he hadn't reflected it back. Now, that blood drenched Sânge's white clothes, skin and hair. There was a strange bubbling sound, as the dragon-slayer's mouth opened and he began to ingest the blood, like Natsu would with fire.

He wiped his mouth and grimaced. "Consuming one's own blood is less than pleasant," he hissed.

"Where is Resmond?" Macbeth asked, evenly, his eyes narrowed at the now dripping figure that hovered above.

"In case you had not noticed, Macbeth," he outstretched his arms and gestured at the crater, "the King has moved on. You fell into his trap."

The dragon-slayer rose a hand, blood gathering in the air around his fingers in droplets.

"Blood Dragon Bleeding Bullets!" His hand swished as he threw the droplets of blood toward the two men. Macbeth curved the trajectory of the blood so that it shot into the crater wall behind him. Jezran expertly dodged, zigzagging at surprising speed between droplets.

Sânge dove at the old man. Jezran immediately blocked his hits. Suddenly, the older man's fingers pressed into the dragon-slayer's neck. He cried out in pain and jumped away, clutching the spot where Jezran had struck.

"You have an impressive storehouse of magic, dear me," Jezran said, eyes scanning over the other man. He began to discard his coat and mask. "You dragon-slayers do seem to have unnatural reserves of magical energy. You are a first generation slayer, are you not?"

Sânge winced at the residual pain he still felt in his neck. "I was sired by a dragon, indeed," he said, through gritted teeth.

"Yes, I see that." Jezran rolled up his sleeves. "I have traced your magical energy. Were you a second-generation slayer, dear me, there would be a well of energy in your solar plexus, stomach, if you will. However, as with Natsu, Gajeel, and Wendy, your energy is expelled equally through specific points in your body. Primarily, your eye, nerve cleft, radial nerves, and tarsal bones."

Sânge raised his eyebrows as Jezran approached slowly and calmly, hands behind his back.

"I will spare you the details of magic flow through your vein and artery structures, though it is quite fascinating given your blood magic, dear me."

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Jezran was behind the dragon-slayer. He made a quick jab to Sânge's lower back, and another to his tricep. The slayer cried out and jumped back, gasping for breath.

"H-How…" Pain was reflected in his red eyes. Macbeth watched from a few feet away in amusement. He had never seen the true extent of Jezran's abilities.

"I applied pressure to your left kidney and your musculo spiral nerve. I believe your arm is completely useless now, dear me."

Sânge grabbed his left arm in shock. His eyes widened in panic when he realized that it hung limp, unable to move.

"You see, dear me. My magic allows me to track magical energy from a distance. It also allows me to track weaknesses in my opponent's body. I can see your flow of energy through your pressure points, and I have the ability to stop that flow."

Sânge's wings flapped as he tried to take to the air again, but Jezran moved in another flash. He dropped the toe of his boot on Sânge's foot, at the same time pressing two fingers against the side of his neck, and another two fingers into his sternum. The slayer's wings evaporated and he collapsed to his knees with a broken cry.

Macbeth continued to watch, his tongue drawing along his lips as he watched the pain being inflicted on their enemy.

"Dear me, young man." Jezran stood in front of him, hands behind his back. "It would do you well to tell us where Resmond has gone, or I will continue to incapacitate the medians in your body."

The blood-soaked man gasped for breath.

"Very well. I am no fool." His body shook. "I know when I have met my match in battle."

"Excellent," Jezran nodded, seriously. "Then—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Sânge lunged at his legs. From the sleeve of his undamaged arm, a blade, made from the fang of a beast, slid into his palm. Jezran moved to get out of the hold at once, but his sharp movement caused Sânge's blade to slice against his thigh.

Jezran stumbled back and clutched his thigh, as blood began to soak the fabric of his pants.

"You are not the only educated man in this room," Sânge said, as he rose painfully to his feet. He slid his tongue along the side of his blade, tasting Jezran's blood. "I've severed your femoral artery, which means that, in approximately four minutes you will have bled out completely."

Jezran clasped his hand over the wound, applying pressure.

"That is," Sânge limped forward, "you _would_ bleed out in four minutes, were I not here to speed up the process." He extended his hand and his fingers curled forward. Jezran gasped in pain as the blood from his thigh began to drift toward Sange's hand. He gathered a handful of floating blood and drank it from his cupped hands. The air around him began to glow red, as this blood fueled his dragon-slayer magic. Jezran fell to the ground, his face quickly turning pale.

"Ah, yes. My blood is boiling now," Sânge's eyes were wild. He rose his hands into the air and cried out. "Blood Dragon Boiling Rain!"

The air seemed to grow hot, as a cloud of blood formed above them. Droplets of blood rain began to fall, scalding hot. Hot enough to burn holes in the earth where they landed.

Jezran looked weakly at the cloud, lifting an arm as if to shield himself. Before the blood could fall on him, however, it was reflected back. Macbeth's hand was outstretched, his magic creating a shield around Jezran to protect the man from the attack. This left himself vulnerable however, and he winced as burning blood melted tears in his clothes, and left burning cuts and welts on his skin.

"How very noble of you," Sânge stepped forward with a smirk. The injuries he'd sustained from Jezran seemed totally healed now, as if consuming blood had overpowered him. He strode forward, toward Macbeth. The blood rain continued to fall, burning Macbeth but not affecting the other man.

Macbeth stood tall and still, despite the burns. He met the eyes of the dragon-slayer's. Blood red—blood reflected in their eyes—blood everywhere.

"You're making a mistake," Macbeth said.

"Oh? I hardly think so." Sânge continued to walk forward, eyes locked on his. "Are you not Midnight of Oracion Seis? Are you not the true face of terror?" His tone was condescending. "I expected a challenge from such an infamous villain. It must be true," a fang-toothed grin, "the Princess and her surrogate mother have turned you soft. Such a pity." He held up red-stained fingertips, signing another attack. However...

There was the loud tolling of a bell, that rang in his ears as he stared at Macbeth.

"What _is_ that?" His eyes widened as the booming sound continued to toll. In front of him, Macbeth's lips were pulled back in a wicked grin, his narrowed eyes just as vicious as Sânge's. He held his hands out, trembling with excitement, and threw his head back to laugh.

"You want to see the true face of terror, do you?"

The blood rain stopped as Sânge lost focus. His breath caught in his throat as the man in front of him began to transform. The walls of the cave turned red, dripping with thick blood. Macbeth rose, body cracking and twisting, growing until he was the form of a massive demon. The dragon-slayer stumbled back.

"Not so cocky now, Sânge?" Macbeth's voice was distorted, followed by a demonic laugh. "I want to hear your screams. I want to hear a lullaby!"

There was a shrieking roar and the swirling of hot air. A shape circled them, the silhouette of a winged beast.

"Kobolse?" Sânge's eyes went wide. He turned, desperately, eyes following the shadowy shape. "Kobolse, is that you?!"

The shape materialized before him. A purple-scaled dragon, with red eyes and no pupils, red claws and matching twisted horns. "It is I, my son," a rumbling voice responded from the belly of the creature.

"Mother!" He began to sprint toward the dragon, arms outspread, eyes shining with tears. But before he could reach her, a heavy set of claws pinned him to the ground. Her red claws tore through his stomach and chest, holding him to the earth below. He sputtered blood, gasping for breath. "Mother, why?"

"You disgust me," the dragon hissed. "So weak." She picked him up, like meat on a skewer, and growled in his face. "That is why I left, you insolent cretin. How could I be proud of such a disgrace for a son?"

"Kobolse…" Sânge whimpered, tears streaking his blood-stained cheeks.

"You think that having a blood lacrima implanted in you will make you strong enough?" She threw her scaly head back and cackled. "You will never be strong enough to earn my love!"

She dissolved—her body turning to blood that splashed to the earth below. Sânge dropped, waist deep in the pool. He desperately cupped handfuls of the blood, sobbing as he did so. "No! Kobolse, please do not leave me again! I _will_ be strong enough!"

Macbeth's demon-laugh resounded off the dripping walls. "How's this for terror?!"

There was a buzzing sound. The blood around Sânge dissolved, revealing the old corpses of animals, crawling with maggots and flies. Sânge gagged and leapt back, against the chest of a man. His appearance was ragged, hands dirty. He reached for Sânge, who cried out and ran in the other direction. He found himself trapped in a room with dirty walls and a stained floor. His red eyes grew more and more wild. He placed a hand over his nose and mouth.

"Germs," he gasped. "Get it away from me! Filth!"

" _That's_ what you're afraid of?!" Macbeth cackled loudly, the sound grating and booming. "How pathetic!"

A crowd of people surrounded Sânge. Sick, coughing, unclean people.

"STAY AWAY!" He lashed out. "Keep your filth away from me!"

The crowd of people closed in on him. He shuddered in disgust and fear, suffocating in the stench of disease and uncleanliness. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The world was going dark…

Suddenly, the black diamond broach he wore pulsed darkly. He blinked, and the illusion around him crumbled. He was in the diamond cavern, with Macbeth's hand closed around his throat.

In a flash, his bloody claws slashed across Macbeth's face. The illusion-wizard released him and jumped back with a wince. Sânge jumped back, as well, chest heaving for breath.

He touched the pulsing diamond. "You saved me, Your Highness…" The broach glowed darkly before the energy around it dissipated once more.

Macbeth touched his face, where three long gashes now bled. He gritted his teeth, his own eyes now wide with fear.

"It seems I underestimated you, Macbeth," Sânge said, still panting. "Your illusion magic is second to none." He outstretched his hand and began to summon forth the blood that drained from Macbeth's cheek. "That is the best you can do, however, is it not?" He licked his fingers when Macbeth's blood reached them. "You have no offensive power—only reflections and lies."

Macbeth clasped his hand over his cheek, as if that could stop Sânge from draining him.

"Invading one's personal thoughts and extracting their fears is positively despicable," the dragon-slayer hissed. "And it is hardly in good sport."

Macbeth's knees began to shake, the blood loss quickly getting to him. Still, he managed a mocking laugh. "Fool."

"Pardon me?" Sânge's eyes narrowed, pale lips turning down in a scowl.

"You actually believe Resmond has a blood lacrima that he'll give you for serving him? You're just as stupid as the snake-woman."

Sânge bared a fang. "I have seen the lacrima myself. It exists, and it will become mine."

"It must be nice to live in a delusional dream-world," Macbeth laughed again, though he had been brought to his knees.

"Sh," he snapped. "Die an honorable and quiet death, Night Terror."

The blood continued to be pulled from Macbeth's wounds to be gathered in Sânge's hand.

Someone sneezed.

The sound distracted Sânge at once. He jerked his head and looked over his shoulder. There was Jezran, standing weakly on his feet.

"Excuse me," Jezran said, politely. "It seems I've gotten a cold."

"I thought I killed you, old man," Sânge hissed in disgust.

"Fairy Tail members do not go down so easil—ah-CHOO!" He sneezed into his hands. Sânge's face contorted.

"Did no one teach you to sneeze into a tissue? Are you a lowly farm animal?"

"Excuse me, dear me," Jezran wiped his nose on the back of his hand, which only served to traumatize the dragon-slayer even more.

"Filthy!" His attention was completely diverted away from Macbeth now. He was too busy staring in horror at the sneezing old man.

"It seems strange, dear me, that your magic is such a gross business, and yet you are so uncomfortable with germs." Jezran limped forward. Sânge swallowed and put his hands out defensively, as if to ward off evil.

"Untainted blood is _not_ gross!" he snapped, as if this were obvious information. "It is clean and pure. Your disgusting bodily excretions are _not_ to be compared!"

"Dear me, I do apologize," Jezran sneezed loudly again, and this time blew his nose into his hands.

"Ill-mannered piece of garbage!" Sânge was trembling in a mixture of terror and disgust.

Jezran limped another step toward him.

"Stay away, diseased swine!"

Jezran coughed without covering his mouth. Sânge held a blood-stained handkerchief over his mouth and gagged.

Jezran coughed again and spit a wad of mucus on the ground. This act caused Sânge to stumble backward and trip…

Right onto Macbeth's flying carpet.

The dragon-slayer's face turned blue. He collapsed into a completely incapacitated puddle and puked off the edge of the carpet.

Macbeth stood shakily from where he was knelt beside his pack. He smirked victoriously, but winced when the action tugged on the gashes on his cheek. He and Jezran looked at each other, both of them pale-faced and speckled in blood. In fact, the entire floor of the crater was now stained red, and Sânge's previously white hair, skin, and clothes, were now all scarlet.

"Good thinking, dear me," Jezran gave a weak, mustached smile.

Macbeth smiled back. "I've spent enough time with Gajeel to know about the dragon-slayer's greatest weakness."

Motion sickness.

Sânge groaned.

Jezran sat with a thud on the soil and ripped a strip of clean fabric from under his jacket, to tie around his bleeding thigh. Meanwhile, Macbeth folded his arms over his chest and glared at Sânge's useless form on his carpet. "Pass me some rope, Pops," he said, without looking away from the blood dragon-slayer.

Jezran tossed a rope from Macbeth's pack. Macbeth unraveled it and was about to tie it around Sânge's wrists when something dark caught his eye. It was the black diamond broach the other man wore, pulsing once again. He narrowed his eyes and examined the thing. The pulses were increasing in frequency, until they were a rapid beat.

Through his gagging and groaning, Sânge managed a defeated laugh. An eerie, cold sound.

"May your blood seep into the core of the world."

Macbeth's eyes shot wide, pupils retracting in horror, as the diamond suddenly stopped pulsing, and dark energy bundled around it.

"Jezran!"

He turned on his heel and leaped toward the older man, but it was too late.

There was a deep silence—as if all the air and sound in the world had been absorbed into the black-diamond broach. An infinite pause. An eternal darkness.

Then, the explosion.

Shattering black diamond that tore through the walls of the cave. An eruption, cataclysmic in proportions. From the snowy sky above, the mountain could be seen collapsing, bursting, erupting like a volcano—but from its spewing mouth was not the red of lava, but the red of spilled blood. The shockwave shook the mountain range, made the village homes tremble.

The village chief made a sign toward the heavens, as stone and diamond began to rain from the sky.

" _Respondeat superior_ ," he whispered.

As the dust settled and the debris fell, the snowy wind continued to blow, as if unaware of the catastrophe. It did not pause in its endless dance with snowflakes. It twirled them in a darkened sky, tossing and spinning. And among the snowflakes, floating in the hands of the playful breeze…

A card. It was torn and spattered in blood, and depicted the cartoonish face of smiling woman with eyes like cherry blossoms.

The card drifted down on the uncaring breeze, and settled lazily in a crack of stone.

There was silence.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, I'll take it as a good sign that I didn't lose any followers after introducing my own dragon-slayer. ;) I was hoping that by now, you guys would be invested enough in the story that it wouldn't be too disappointing. And hopefully now that you've seen Sânge in action, you might be that much more open to the character. I'd love to hear your opinions!**

 **QuestionablyCapableGhoul, I'm glad you caught on to the name! As far as Middream... My, my, aren't you readers impatient! You didn't expect an assassin to start snuggling and smooching all that soon, did you? xD Don't worry, the sexual tension will only continue to grow. Which means teasing fluff scenes await, mixed in the chaos of the Black Diamond mysteries.**

 **Thank you all, again!**


	50. Pillowfights and Poker

**A/N: Sorry for the slight delay in posting today! I attempted to post at my usual time and the Fanfiction server wouldn't load my doc. Better late than never. ;) Enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 50: Pillow-fights and Poker**

Dreamer paced the living room of her and Mira's apartment. Back and forth from the mahogany coffee table to the front door, dragging her feet on the beige carpet as she did so. She could hear Mira reading Syllest a bed time story down the hall. Or, well, a story at least. From the sound of it, it was more like a horror novel for adults that featured demons devouring the innards of vampires, but that was to be expected from Mirajane. When she read to Syllestra, it was either the latest gossip from Sorcerer Weekly, or stuff that would give Erza nightmares—which was why Dreamer hardly ever let Mirajane read the child to sleep, but tonight was an exception. It was an exception because Dreamer was too distracted to focus on storytelling.

She ran her thumb repetitively over the corner of the card in her hand. Jezran and Macbeth had been gone for five nights now. She hadn't heard from them in two. When she tried to contact them herself, there was no answer. She couldn't sleep or eat for the worry.

For a half hour she paced. She paced until the light in Syllest's room clicked off and the door gently shut—until Mira walked to meet her in the living room, and suddenly threw her arms around her.

Dreamer stood as still as a statue in the other woman's arms. Her friend stroked her hair and hummed a melody against her ear, to comfort her. Dreamer released a sharp breath and squeezed her friend, holding back sobs.

"There, there, Dreamer," Mira kissed her cheek. "You don't need to be so worried."

"Mira, what was I thinking?" She breathed in her friend's flowery scent. "I shouldn't have let them go alone! He's too powerful… They're probably—"

"Fine," Mira cut her off. "They're probably fine." She leaned her head back and smiled at Dreamer. "Maybe they just lost their card, silly!"

"I don't know…" She looked to the side with a sigh.

"I'm going to make you some tea, okay? That will help you feel better!" The white-haired woman grinned and skipped into the attached kitchen.

"Mira, if something happened to them…" She traced their faces on the surface of the card. Jezran. Macbeth.

"Dreamer, you really shouldn't worry about those two," came the reply. She spoke in between humming and starting the tea kettle. "They're very powerful. And besides, there's no way Beth would let himself get killed before he gets to ask you on a date."

Dreamer paused in her steps to cast Mira a condescending glance. "Really, Mira?"

The she-demon giggled. "Don't look at me like that! I'm serious! He loooovvvess you!"

Dreamer felt her cheeks get hot, despite the rock in her stomach.

"He does not, _Happy._ " She rolled her eyes but finally stopped pacing. She sat on the loveseat and turned on the lamp next to her.

Mira leaned over the half wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. "Has he kissed you yet?" Her blue eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Mirajane!" Her blush deepened. "It's not like—"

"Piper told me you've been in his bed." Her grin widened. "And you had his lipstick on your forehead the other night, remember?"

Dreamer curled up into a ball and pulled a blanket over her face.

"Are you guys dating or not?! You have to tell me, Dreamer! I'm your best friend!"

"Mira…" Dreamer mumbled a harassed groan. "No… We're not dating, okay?" Then, in a quieter voice. "He doesn't feel that way about me."

Mira giggled loudly. "I don't think that's true!"

"Mirajane—"

"You spend all your time together! And think about it, Dreamer! He doesn't like when anyone touches him, unless it's you! And he's always smiling when he sees you, or talks about you—"

"No, he's always _smirking_ ," she countered quickly. "There's a big difference."

The kettle started to whistle.

"You could ask Erik to tell you what he thinks about you," the other girl suggested, voice dripping with mischief.

Dreamer threw the blanket off of herself, since it was not helping her tune out Mira's voice. "No, Mira. If I wanted to know what he thinks or feels about me, I could read him myself."

"Well, why don't you?" Mira called over her shoulder as she poured the boiling water into a cup for her.

"Because I… I don't think that's the right thing to do. If he does like me… I want it to happen naturally, you know? No magical interference."

Mira giggled softly and came out of the kitchen with a saucer, tea cup, and honey.

"Plus, I'm not sure my magic, or Erik's for that matter, could even interpret what goes on in that sadistic head of his." She rolled her eyes.

Mira sat the saucer in front of her and stirred some honey into the cup. She passed the cup to Dreamer when she was finished. Dreamer lifted it with a thankful nod, and breathed in the steamy scent of the tea. Her eyebrow twitched and she narrowed her eyes at Mirajane, who was smiling innocently at her.

"Chamomile? Really?"

"What?" Mira cocked her head to the side. "I thought it might help you relax!"

Dreamer sighed and sipped the tea. _Relax? Yeah, right._

"When he comes home, you should welcome him with a kiss!" Mira clasped her hands in childlike excitement. "I can see it now! He'll get off the train and you'll be waiting for him and run into his arms and pull him down into a deep kiss! He'll pull your hips against his and slide his tongue passionately across your lips before—"

"MIRA! I don't need the visuals!" she clasped her hands over her ears.

"And you'll walk hand-in-hand back to the guild hall and to the boy's dorm! Oh my! I'll have to take Piper to the casino that night so that you guys have some privacy. Hee hee!"

"Miraaaaa!" Dreamer threw a pillow at her.

"Or I could take Syllest out and you could bring him here! How romantic! He'll lift you up and lay you down on the couch, right where you're sitting—"

"That's it!" Dreamer jumped off the couch and pounced on Mira, smacking her upside the head with a pillow. The other woman transformed into a demon and lifted two pillows, with a dark expression. "I'm not scared of you!" Dreamer dove behind the rocking chair, avoiding a pillow that was thrown at breakneck speed.

Mira leapt after her and the pillowfight ensued. Their giggling laughter filled the living room, erasing the tension that earlier resided there. The card Dreamer had been holding now lay forgotten next to a cup of chamomile tea.

Mira was right. The boys would come home safely… Right?

* * *

 **Meanwhile, in the Fairy Tail Guild Hall:**

The regular group of late-nighters was gathered around the bar. This included Cana, who was being passed a mug by a grinning Kinana.

"Yo, doll." A familiar voice called out.

Piper had entered the room and took a seat at one of the tables. The long side of his hair was slicked to the side and he was chewing a piece of gum. He was wearing the leather vest he owned that had metal spikes on the shoulders, no shirt underneath, and fingerless gloves. He gestured for Cana to come over with his finger.

The brunette took a long swig of beer before sliding off the bar seat and joining him at the table. He was already laying out cards.

"What are we playing tonight?" she asked, making herself comfortable.

"I ain't decided yet." He dug in his jean pockets and pulled out his dice. "Can I get some luck, doll?" He held them out to her.

She leaned over the table and blew into his cupped hands. He shook the dice and rolled them out on the table. A six and four. He leaned back with a smirk. "Not too shabby."

"What was that for?" She leaned on her elbow. "Checking to see if Pops and Macbeth are still alive?"

"Nah." He left the dice exactly where they were at, and shuffled the cards. He held them out to let her split the deck. "I took your advice and told Dreamy how's I felt about her."

"Yeah?" her chocolate waves brushed a bare shoulder as she cocked her head in muted interest. "How'd that go?"

"Ah, you know." He tapped the deck on the table. "I ain't her type. She digs the tall, dark, ex-assassin, transgender guys."

"You must be pretty torn up about it." She watched his expressions. He simply shrugged in response, not meeting her eyes.

"Nah. You knows…" He sat the deck down next to his dice and met her gaze. "You's was right. Talking to her was a big weight off my shoulders. Feels like I could fly, honestly."

Cana smiled sincerely at him, amethyst eyes sparkling. "Good for you."

"It's your turn now, babe." His eyes flicked back and forth between hers. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, lips parting in a bit of surprise.

"My turn to what?" She narrowed her thin eyebrows.

"Ain't you's got something you need to say to someone?" He smacked his gum loudly, never breaking eye contact.

Cana's cheeks took on the slightest tinge of red.

"What the hell are you talking about, Pipe?" She rolled her eyes and scowled before taking a swallow of beer. She gasped when he swung his legs over the table without warning and landed with a THUD next to her on the bench. He scooted close and tossed an arm around her shoulder. The closeness wasn't unusual for the two of them, so her surprise quickly dissipated. He leaned on his elbow with his free arm and scanned her face with his penetrating, emerald eyes.

"I'm talkin' about your pops, Cana." He said, in a softer tone.

She sighed, almost as if relieved. "Yeah, right." Her eyes rolled dramatically.

"The S-Class trials are comin' up, aren't they?" He squeezed her shoulder. "A couple of months maybe?"

"Thanks for reminding me." She elbowed him hard in the gut. He groaned in response, but quickly laughed it off.

"Hey." He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side, to prevent another attack from her elbow. She bit her lip, and did not push him away. "You're gonna win this year. Then you're gonna tell him the truth, got it?"

She let out a sigh. "Yeah, we'll see." She fidgeted slightly in his hold, keenly aware of his thumb rubbing her guild mark. "Whatever, I don't want to think about it right now." She gave him a shove and reached for her mug. Before she could snatch it, however, Piper had gripped her hand.

"Wait." He pushed the mug out of her reach. "I wanna talk to you's. And I want you sober for it."

She pulled her hand out of his grip and narrowed her sharp eyebrows even more. "What?" she snapped slightly. "Quit acting stupid and spit it out."

He stared at her with a perplexed expression, like he was desperately trying to work something out. His green eyes flitted over her face, hair, lips, neck, and scantily clad body. It was totally unlike him to be so focused on anything or anyone who wasn't "Dreamy," so naturally his gaze was beginning to irritate her.

"Well?" she snapped, harsher this time.

"You got the hots for me, babe?"

The question took her utterly by surprise. Her cheeks flushed red and she instinctively reached for the beer mug, which was inconveniently out of reach. Besides, as soon as she reached forward, he leaned in the way.

"Do I _have_ to be sober for this conversation?" Her lips turned in a bit of a sneer.

He reached up and stroked his goatee, the same blue shade as the bra she sported. "Be honest. You really been diggin' me this whole time?"

Cana closed her eyes and finally sighed in defeat. She gave a shrug, then met his gaze once more. "You got me."

Piper's eyes widened. He straightened up on the bench, eyes scanning her over again. He scratched a spot on his bare stomach, which was all tight muscle. He didn't fail to notice the way her purple-tinged eyes lingered on the skin of his torso for a moment before she slumped against the table. Her hair made a pool on the tabletop, successfully shielding her blushing face from view.

"Cana…" He reached out and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Why didn't you's tell me?"

She scowled bitterly, avoiding his gaze. "Right, like it would have mattered. You've always been too hung up on 'your girl: Dreamy.' If it didn't matter, why the hell bring it up?"

His eyes bore into hers, emotion heavily reflected in them. "Cuz maybe I'd of opened my eyes long enough to knows I wasn't ever gonna be with her."

Memories drifted silently between them. Both of them thinking back to the years they'd known each other. It had been three years since Gildarts had been in Magnolia, and three years since Piper joined Fairy Tail. Three years of card games, alcohol, and laughter. Countless sleepless nights spent gambling at the casino together. Countless morning spent with him carrying her to bed, or to a bathroom where he'd hold her hair back as she regretted her choices over a porcelain pot. They'd huddled under the guild tables together, cried about their loves and losses in each other's arms, and wasted probably millions of jules together.

And for the first time, Piper realized that he was more himself around Cana Alberona than anyone else. Even around Dreamer. Around the cream-haired wizard, he was always walking on eggshells. Trying to act better than he really thought he was. Cana saw right through his bullshit, though. He could cuss out loud around her, ramble on about some of his old drunken adventures, even talk to her about some of the dank things he'd done in his life for a quick dime. He was open with her, able to share every thought and feeling without worrying that she'd judge him for it. Up until now, he'd chocked all that up to meaning that she was his best friend—his best buddy.

But now, looking at her slim form slumped against the table, the blush on her cheeks as she looked at him—knowing that all along, she'd had feelings for _him._ It was like something suddenly clicked.

Cana watched Piper's expressions change. It always amused her that he was such an open book. There was no hiding anything that man was feeling, try as he might. His face changed from surprised to confused to calculating, then to understanding, and finally—his cheeks took color.

Piper. The bad-ass gambler with a heart of gold. She'd known the first time he gave her an emerald-green wink that she was doomed.

"So what now?" She blinked, not lifting her head off the table. "The cat's out of the bag, I guess."

He chewed his gum thoughtfully.

"Wanna date?"

She shoved him hard in the chest. "Are you kidding?! No way!"

His jaw dropped and the gum plopped humorously out of his mouth. His eyes were wide. "But I t'ought-!"

"Look, Piper." She purposely created space between them on the bench, and put her hands on her waist. "Yeah, I like you. But I'm not going to be your rebound chick."

He put his gloved hands up defensively. "It ain't like that, babe—"

"You've been obsessed with Dreamer for three years, Pipe," she snapped. "I'm not going to date you and deal with all the emotional drama and risk watching you walk out on me because you never really liked me in the first place."

His bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

"Why don't you wait a couple months and then ask me out again. _After_ , the S-Class trials."

He looked down at the bench and picked a frayed thread on his jeans. After a long moment, he swung his boot up and jumped back over the table to his original place. He pocketed his dice and then picked up the deck of cards.

"Wanna play?"

She gaped at him. "That's it? You're not going to mope or beg, or get pissed or something?" She crossed her arms suspiciously under her breasts.

"Why would I?" He cocked his head, a lock of sky-blue hair swaying in front of his eye. "You's got a valid point, babe." He shrugged. "And whether you're my girl or not, you're still my number one poker buddy, right?" He held the cards out to her.

Cana looked at the dorky grin on his face, his sincere, sparkling eyes. She offered a girly blush before reaching out for the card, fingertips brushing against his. She laughed and smiled brightly in response. "Yeah. You're right."


	51. The King

**A/N: Enter Resmond. Be sure to share your thoughts, loyal readers. ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 51: The King**

The stone balcony overlooked the inside of the spiraling tower. Hollowed out, narrow and tall, with just enough room to harbor the thing that had been moved here. The rod of brilliant white diamond cast shimmering light on the stone walls. It stood thirty feet tall, jagged edges suggesting it had been constructed in haste. Beneath the surface of white, broken and refracted in image by the sharp edges of the stone encasing it, was a dark shape.

Above the encased device, hanging from the top of the tower over the highest point of the diamond shield, was a different sort of machine. This too was created from diamond, but unlike the glimmering white rod below it, it was as black as a starless night. It seemed to absorb the light cast by its opposite, and shimmered nothing but void. Like a stalactite and stalagmite, the formations rose and fell to meet each other, only a few feet of space between their jagged points.

The sounds of hard work echoed in the stone tower, bouncing off of the diamond formations. Slaves were at work, positioning the heavy, black diamonds around the base of the white rod, in carefully designated areas. And from the stone balcony above, they were watched by their master.

He was as dark and still as one of the diamond formations himself. A head taller than most men, with long, raven-black hair, a single strand of yellow layered through his bangs. His features were sharp—breathtakingly handsome. His eyes slanted, enough to give him a dark, but sleek countenance. They were the color of lightning, and sparked with the same kind of power. Garbed in a black cloak that draped from his broad shoulders and followed the straight line of his spine. And upon his head, a crown of gold, adorned with a black diamond rose with tendrils of diamond vines creeping along the metal. The long fingers of his left hand sported a golden band—precisely where a wedding band would be.

The King of Diamonds watched his servants scurry like ants below.

"Your Majesty?" A woman's voice called meekly to him. It belonged to a lady with forest-green hair and matching nail polish. A snake was curled around her neck like a boa, and she wore a sparkling black dress that exposed the luscious curve of her breasts and thighs. Her eyes swam with reverence as she looked at the man standing in the darkness in front of her. "It won't be long now," she said, voice dripping with excitement.

"Yes, Giseld," the King responded. His voice was deep and wispy, like a dark song—a natural magical charm. "Soon, the world will be ours."

The hairs rose on the back of the woman's neck at these words. She stroked the head of the purple snake as it hissed in response to her physical reaction.

"Will we get the princess soon?" she asked.

"Syllestra." He ran a hand through a wave of black hair—hair that so closely resembled hers. "That depends." He clasped his hands behind his back and continued to look down at the encased Nikolana Device. "Have you seen Sânge?"

"Sânge?" She bit her lip in thought. "Not since you sent him out, Your Majesty."

The King stood still. Lightning sparking in sinister eyes.

"Do you think Macbeth managed to kill him?" The question was casual. His manner of speaking was quiet, deep, slow.

Giseld scoffed and put a petite hand on her hip. "As if that weakling could best Sânge."

"He bested you," he pointed out, without passion.

The woman's high cheekbones took color. "Your Highness, that wasn't… It was dumb luck! How was I supposed to know he was wearing hooker boots?"

"Sh."

She clamped her mouth shut and stared shamefully at the stone floor.

"I wonder." He still did not move. Not to brush hair away from his eyes. Not to lean more comfortably against the railing. He continued to stand utterly still—hands behind his back. "If he is in love with Rosy's sister."

"It doesn't matter," she said back, somewhat haughtily. "He has no right to be stepping into the princess's life like some kind of surrogate father!" She bared long fangs. "How dare he—"

"Dreamer," he cut her off, as if he hadn't heard a word she'd said—as if he were speaking to himself. "She's grown up. She looks like her sister." There was a tug at the corner of his lips. "I have half the mind to collect the set."

"Y-Your Majesty?" Giseld's face paled.

"I am curious to know if she cries the same way Rosy did. That sound… I almost miss it."

"Your Highness, you don't mean—" she trembled in desperation. "Y-you don't need that pathetic excuse for a woman! _I'll_ be your queen! Just like you said! _I_ can cry for you, my King! I can do anything you want me to do!"

He said nothing at all. His eyelids dropped as he thought about things unknown.

"Res—" The snake-woman reached for his cloak, but before she could touch him, the door swung open behind them.

"My King." The voice that spoke was sophisticated—refined. The speaker took a knee and bowed until his white hair brushed the floor.

"Sânge." The King finally moved. He turned to face the blood-dragon slayer, eyes scanning briefly over the blood-stained, raggedy clothes he wore.

"Your Majesty," the dragon-slayer spoke in complete humility.

"Did you kill them?"

"My deepest and humblest apologies, my King…" there was a tremble in his voice. "I… I do not know."

The King said nothing. It was Giseld who spoke first.

"How can you not know, Sânge?!" She put both hands on her hips and hissed at him. "You either killed them or you didn't! It's not complicated! Don't waste the King's time—"

"On the ground, Giseld."

She looked at Resmond with wide, confused eyes. "Your Maj—"

He pointed at the ground, expressionless. Giseld swallowed nervously but finally obeyed, bowing in the same manner as Sânge at his feet.

"Sânge, you may stand."

The blood-dragon slayer obeyed, with only the briefest smug look in Giseld's direction. He kept his head bowed as he stood before his master.

"The diamond detonated," he explained, "and I found traces of their blood among the rubble, but… I did not locate the bodies."

"…I see." He exhaled slowly before reaching into the pocket of his cloak. "That is… disappointing."

Sânge's Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped.

From the dark pocket, the king withdrew an object. It pulsed warmly in his hand, radiating red light.

"You believe, if this blood-lacrima is implanted in your body, you will be strong enough to bring back your mother, correct?" His yellow eyes were balls of electricity.

"Yes…" Sânge's fingers trembled. His eyes were glued to the lacrima.

"Sânge, Sânge…" His sigh was condescending. "It really is a shame to want something that someone else has power over." He tossed the lacrima back and forth between his open palms. Sânge flinched with each pass, fighting every instinct to snatch it out of his King's hands. "See, _I_ wanted something. I wanted Macbeth dead. And you had power over that desire, didn't you?"

The trembling in Sânge's fingers turned to a whole-body shivering. He clenched his fists. "I am sorry, my King…"

"Yeah…" Resmond rolled the lacrima in his fingers. "Me too." He tapped the lacrima with a fingertip, and watched as the red crystal cracked, ever so slightly.

"No!" The blood-dragon slayer's eyes shot open in horror. He instinctively lunged forward, but Giseld grabbed his ankle and he fell, smacking his chin and lip on the stone floor. "Your Majesty, please!" Tears rolled down his cheeks as he cried out in desperation, pleading at Resmond's feet.

The King of Diamonds stared down at him, expressionlessly. "Sânge. It would be fair for me to break this lacrima, because you failed to fulfill my desire for the assassin's death. You know it would be fair, right?"

"Yes, your Majesty!" He clenched his hands together. "It would be fair, but please, have mercy!"

"It is highly inconvenient that he still lives, you know…" Resmond tapped the lacrima again. It trembled, as if an invisible pressure were building up inside of it. "It will be difficult, retrieving my daughter when that band of lackluster wizards protects her, particularly the Night Terror. Not impossible… but difficult. Inconvenient."

"I will not fail next time, my King! Please, place your trust in me once more. I will drown him in his own blood!"

"Let me do it, Your Majesty!" Giseld begged. "I won't fail you!"

Resmond silently looked over his shoulder at the diamond formations in the shaft of the tower. "Now, now…" his voice was calm. "No need to be so hasty."

Giseld and Sânge shared a look of confusion before bowing their heads to their king once more. He slid the blood lacrima back into the inside pocket of his cloak, masking its dull red glow. Then he clasped his hands behind his back once more, returning to his original statuesque posture. He said nothing for another long moment, yellow eyes fixed on the encased Nikolana Device.

"Do you think it will bring her pain?"

His words hung strangely in the air.

"Your Majesty?"

"Rosy's sister. Do you think it will bring her pain, the knowledge that I am just beyond reach, and that soon I will take Syllestra from her, and she is powerless to stop me?"

"Oh yes," Giseld gave a fang-toothed grin. "I'm sure she's miserable, your majesty. And she should be! The princess is yours to have! She's nothing but a lowly thief—"

Sânge stomped hard on Giseld's hand. She squawked in pain, caught his warning glance, and quickly fell silent. She looked back up at the tall form of their master.

"It would be foolish to attack them again, using the same tactic that has failed twice." His yellow eyes glanced slowly at the prostrate pair, as if to remind them that _they_ were the failed tactic. "We'll leave them alone."

Giseld opened her mouth again and this time Sânge clasped his hand over it.

"There's no rush." He finally turned his head away from the diamond formations. "Let her suffer in the fear of my looming power for a while longer." He began to walk toward the door, stepping casually over Giseld and Sânge like they were nothing but obstacles on the floor. "I like to think that she cries herself to sleep at night. Just like my Rosy used to." With his hands still clasped behind his back, he rubbed the golden band he wore around his ring finger.

Sânge's eyes followed him, brimming with longing as he looked at the place where the blood lacrima was tucked away. Giseld's eyes gleamed with as much passionate desperation, though for other reasons.

"Sânge." The King paused.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Though it would be fair for me to break the thing you most desire, I won't." He stood still in front of the door, not even looking back at the dragon-slayer. "I'm merciful, aren't I?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. You are a generous King."

"…Yeah." Without another word, the King of Diamonds disappeared from sight.


	52. Operation Mustard Sandwich!

**A/N: Some cute filler for you guys! I know, I know, you're desperately waiting to see what happened to Jezran and Macbeth and I'm just dragging it out. ;) Soon, friends. Soon. In the meantime, enjoy the laughter and smiles. Side note: I am aware that, at this point in the canon, Laxus would not be in Fairy Tail; however, considering it's cutesie filler, mostly just for fun and feels, I decided to leave him in. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 52: Operation Mustard Sandwich!**

The storage closet was musty and dark. The only light was what filtered down from the cobweb ridden, rectangular window above the highest shelf. Crouched on the cement floor, huddled together over a small lacrima-powered flashlight, were two children. A girl of about seven, black hair in long pigtails, wearing a trench coat that was much too long for her, and an oversized top hat that belonged to someone else. A boy with beady, giant eyes and purple-tinged hair, wearing a black hoodie—hood pulled over his head.

"Commence operation 'Mustard Sandwich,'" the girl whispered.

"Why are we calling it 'Mustard Sandwich,' Syllest?" the boy whispered back.

"Because that's Mom's favorite food, Romeo," she explained, in a tone that suggested this was obvious. "Let me see the list."

Romeo shone the light on a clipboard in his lap. Syllest looked over it with narrowed eyes, chewing her lip in thought. Her eyes widened and she jabbed him hard in the collarbone.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"I told you to use codenames! What if someone finds this? The operation will be ruined!"

She dug in her pocket and pulled out a pencil. She furiously erased something on the paper and started to write again.

"Sal…amand..er," she sounded out.

"Syllest, everyone knows that's Natsu."

"Ha! That's why it's a trick," she said smugly. "Salamander is the codename for Nab, not Natsu!"

"Oh..." he blinked in understanding. "You're a genius!"

"I know, right?" She giggled and finished scribbling on the sheet. "Next! Do you have the evidence?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Romeo lifted a five-gallon Ziploc baggie with the word "Evidance" written on it in sharpie. There looked to be an array of random items inside, varying from some envelopes, to an origami dragon, to some potato chips, and a live frog.

"Great!" She nodded in approval and raised her hand for a high-five. "That means… it's time."

Their eyes met. They nodded slowly, looks of determination etched on their small faces.

"First on the list… Codename: Walnut."

"Wait, who's—"

Before Romeo could finish asking the question, Syllest was opening the storage room door and tugging him into the hallway. She pulled the top hat down further on her head before she began to creep along the wall. Romeo scrambled after her.

They snuck along the walls, diving behind pillars when anyone walked past. Out to the guild pool, where they crouched behind the towel-stand.

"There he is…"

Laying on his stomach, soaking in the sunlight, was Gray Fullbuster. He was strewn out on a beach chair, wearing blue swim trunks. A red-faced Juvia was currently applying sunscreen to his exposed back, hearts bursting in her eyes.

"Grab a disguise," Syllest commanded. She snatched one of the white spa towels and donned it on top of her top hat.

"These won't make very good dis—"

The death glare in her pink eyes was enough to shut him up. He pulled a towel over his head as well. Then, with Syllest in the lead, they crept toward Gray and Juvia. Juvia was too awestruck by Gray to notice them approaching, and Gray's head was turned in the other direction.

"Gray Fullister!" Syllest tossed her towel dramatically off her head and pointed a finger at him. He lazily turned his head to look at her.

"Huh?" He yawned. "What's up, kid?"

Romeo stood at Syllest's side with his towel, and now hers, covering him.

"Exhibit A, Watson!" Syllest commanded. Her companion dug in the sandwich baggie, almost freeing the desperate frog. He handed her an envelope.

"Exhibit A, miss Sherlock!"

"Oh! Look at you two working together!" Juvia squealed with joy and clasped her hands. "It's absolutely adorable!"

Syllestra ignored her completely, instead pulling a lock of black hair out of the envelope.

"How do you explain this, Mr. Fullister?" She waggled the hair in front of his eyes.

"What?" he sat up and scratched the side of his head. "What is that?"

"Is that a lock of my darling's perfect hair?" Juvia leaned forward to look at it.

"That's right!" Syllest put her little fists on her hips.

"When did you get that?" Gray ran a hand through his hair, self-consciously.

"I'm the one asking questions here!" the little girl huffed and put her nose in the air. "First question! What color is your hair?"

He blinked. "Uh… black?"

"Watson?"

Romeo nodded and made a checkmark on the clipboard sheet.

"What is your favorite season?"

"Geez, I don't know… Summer, I guess."

Her pink eyes went wide. "But you're an ice wizard!"

"Yeah, well, I can't swim in the winter." He gave a noncommittal shrug.

Romeo shook his head and scribbled an 'X.'

"Is it true, Mr. Fullister, that you take my mom on dates to Jimmy's Sandwich Shop sometimes?"

Gray rose an eyebrow. Behind him, Juvia began to shake uncontrollably.

"Excuse me? Just what are you suggesting, young lady?" Her eyelid twitched. "My sweet, darling Gray would never take another woman on a date, am I right, dear?"

"You got the wrong idea, Syllestra. I bribe her with food so she'll charm Freed for me." He straightened up and leaned his elbows on his knees. "And your mom is more of the 'picnic in the woods' type of girl."

Juvia went pale. "H-How do you know that, darling?"

Syllest frowned and looked over Romeo's shoulder at what he was writing. "So…" she turned her bright pink eyes back on Gray. "You're not my father?"

Juvia went rigid and fell over sideways into the pool. Gray blanched.

"Sorry, but no." He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Dreamer's cool and all, but she's not really my type."

Romeo took out a red marker and slashed out "Walnut" on the list.

Syllest gave a sad sigh. "Okay…" She examined the black lock of hair in her hand, holding it next to a strand of her own.

"Don't worry, Syllestra." Romeo patted her back. "We'll find your dad! Let's keep looking!"

She met his eyes and nodded, regaining her previous determined expression.

"Next! Codename: Fluffy!"

Syllest grabbed Romeo's hand and they were gone in a puff, leaving a confused Gray—and a floating Juvia—behind.

* * *

A blue-haired script mage was reading a book in the library, sporting magical red glasses. To her right, sitting cross-legged on the ground, was a certain iron dragon-slayer.

Levy glanced over after she had sped-read the last page of her current book. The red glasses slid to the tip of her nose.

"You don't have to sit and wait for me to finish, Gajeel," she said. "Not that I don't enjoy your company." She smiled sweetly.

He huffed. "It ain't like I got anything better to do."

She giggled quietly as she looked at him. Scarred arms crossed defiantly over his chest, eyes closed and brows furrowed on his tan face. He was tenser than usual.

"You're worried about Macbeth, aren't you?" She turned in her chair to face him, a knowing smile touching her lips. He opened his eyes. "It's been a few days since anyone has heard from him and Jezran, right?"

"Yeah," Gajeel relaxed a bit, unfolding his arms to lean back on his palms, "but I ain't worried. Beth can take care of himself."

"You two really are close, aren't you?" Her smile got warmer. She took off the reading glasses and sat them on the desk.

"Well duh," he scoffed. "We're best pals, no matter what snake-breath has to say about it." He bared a canine at the mention of Erik.

"I think it's sweet, how much you care about him."

Gajeel's cheeks took the slightest shade. "Yeah well… that bastard needs to come home so we can make it to our next gig. If he's not back in the next two days, I'm going after him."

She was about to respond when she saw his nose twitching. He leaned his head back and sniffed the air. Moments later, two little heads popped up right next to her, causing her to squeak and fall off the chair.

"Thought I smelled pipsqueaks." Gajeel smirked at the sight of Syllest and Romeo, garbed in oversized black spy-gear.

"Gajeel Redbox!" Syllest pounced up onto the desk, knocking all of Levy's books on the ground.

"Hey, this is a library!" Levy caught a handful of them and scolded the girl, who wasn't listening to her in the slightest.

"What's up, Dreamer's kid?" he cocked his head to the side.

Syllest narrowed her pink eyes and regarded him harshly. She pounced in a flash, suddenly pulling a large chunk of his black hair.

"Hey, what gives?!" Gajeel winced in pain and surprise.

"What do you think, Watson?" Syllest held a black lock up next to her own.

"Uh… Take your pigtails out," Romeo answered while stroking his chin. She did so, allowing her own black hair to fall to her waist.

"Hm…" Romeo's eyes flicked back and forth between the little girl and the dragon-slayer. "It's a close match."

"His hair is thicker than mine," she noted, with another hard tug.

"Alright, hands off the merchandise, kiddo!" Gajeel stood up and pushed Syllest's head back with the palm of his hand.

"Mr. Redbox!" She put her hands on her hips and started to pace in front of him. "What were you doing on Tuesday, the fourth, at nine thirty AM? Watson, take notes!"

"How the hell am I supposed to remember?" His bottom lip jutted out. Levy finished placing the books neatly back on the desk. She giggled at Gajeel and the kids.

"Let me jog your memory!" she gestured dramatically. The over-long sleeve of her coat drooped over her hand. "You were in the garden putting a spider on my mom's hair! Do you remember now?"

"Am I bein' detained or something?"

Romeo scribbled furiously on the clipboard.

"What's he writing anyway?"

"I'm the one asking the questions, mister!" Syllest shouted. Gajeel's lips pinched shut. "So, tell me Mr. Box. Do you like teasing my mommy?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Look, the spider thing was Beth's idea, not mine. I ain't done nothing wrong!"

"Answer the question, Mr. Redbox!"

"No way! I'm not being interrogated by snot-nosed punks!"

Sparks flew between Syllest and Gajeel's eyes.

"Romeo, what's this about?" Levy asked quietly while the other two "children" had a staring contest.

"We're trying to find out if Gajeel is Syllest's dad!"

Levy's jaw dropped. Gajeel blinked, officially losing the contest.

"If I'm _what_?"

"We're trying to find Syllest's dad! He's gotta be someone at the guild, right?"

"Well it sure as hell ain't me!" Gajeel roared, eyes bulging.

"The evidence disagrees!" Syllest said triumphantly. "We're the same! We both have black hair—"

"You're both scary mean," Romeo added helpfully.

"And we can both make music! Exhibit B, Watson!" Syllest held her hand out and caught a ukele that Romeo tossed to her. She cleared her throat and began to strum an awful melody.

"Shoo bee doo bee," she said, as one of the strings snapped.

"First off, it's 'shoo bee doo BOP. Second—"

"Shoo bee doo bo?"

"Shoo bee doo BOP!"

"Scooby dooby?"

"KID I AIN'T YOUR DAD!" Gajeel snatched the ukele out of her hands. Another string broke. Syllest's eyes started to water. "Oh shit."

She sniffled. Her pink eyes were the size of plates, filling with sparkling tears.

"H-Hey, don't cry, okay?" He waved his hands frantically in front of him. "I didn't mean to yell!"

"Way to go, Gajeel," Levy said, disapprovingly.

"Pipsqueak, it's not like I hate your old lady or anything, but I've never… We never…" He looked at Levy with horror on his face, when he realized what sort of conversation he was about to have with a seven-year-old girl. "And if I ever thought about anything like that, I'd be dead in a ditch somewhere—Beth'd make sure of it."

Syllest whimpered, eyes wavering, tears reaching the breaking point.

"Sherlock," Romeo said, walking to her side. "It's okay! We still have a lot of people to check! We'll find your dad, I promise!"

She nodded weakly, then put her nose in the air and strode purposefully away from Gajeel—without shedding a single tear.

Crickets chirped when the library door slammed shut behind her and Romeo.

"She's quite the little tsundere, isn't she?" Levy sweatdropped.

"Man, she might be as scary as Erza one day," Gajeel shuddered. "You really think one of the guys here is her old man?"

"For his sake, I hope not." Levy laughed nervously. Both imagined a very furious looking Macbeth and shivered.

* * *

Syllest was on a rampage now. She stomped her way through the hall to the main room of the guild, thrusting her oversized coat on the ground in an angry huff. Romeo stumbled to keep up with her, as she marched straight up to the job request board.

"Salamander!" She pointed at Nab, who was, as always, examining the board with a grim expression.

"Salamander?" He blinked at her in surprise.

"Are you my dad?" She gritted her teeth, eyes shooting daggers.

Nab blushed deeply. He muttered something incoherent and stroked his arms in embarrassment.

"He wishes!" Wakaba shouted.

"You ever going to ask her out, Nab?" Macao asked.

Nab's face paled in terror. He vigorously shook his head.

"He can't now, old man," Wakaba laughed, with a puff on his pipe. "Mac would string him up on the request board."

Macao laughed out loud. "You're right about that! Looks like you missed your chance, Nabby. Better luck with the next girl!"

Syllest stormed past Nab and leapt on the table Macao and Wakaba were sitting at. Her little pointer finger jutted at Macao next.

"Are _you_ my dad?"

"Syllest, that's MY dad!" Romeo pulled on her shirt to tug her away from him. "He'd tell me if I had a sister!"

"It's not me," Macao laughed. "But you know, Dreamer's not exactly hard to look at…" He and Wakaba shared a dirty look.

"Watch your mouth, geezer. Who knows when the Night Terror will be back?"

"Good point."

They shivered.

Syllest had already moved on. She was climbing over tables, pushing people aside, scanning the faces.

"Syl—I mean Sherlock—I mean… Wait for me!" Poor Romeo ran as fast as he could to keep up.

"Catch, Happy!" Nearby, Natsu and Happy were playing catch with Lucy's hairbrush.

"GIVE IT BACK!" The furious blonde was in between the two of them, only one pigtail up.

"Haha! No way, this is too much fun!"

Happy did a backflip in the air and caught the brush. "Ew, there's a Lucy hair in my mouth!" He narrowly avoided Lucy's arms as she lunged at him. "Your turn, Natsu!" He chucked the purple brush toward Natsu's outstretched hand. But instead of it reaching its target, the brush was smacked out of the air by a small karate chop.

"Natsu Dragon!" Syllest faced him now, fists on her hips.

"Huh? What's up, Damien's daughter?"

"Geez, Natsu, it's Daisy, get it right," Happy said, hovering over his head.

"Syllest," Romeo caught up, heaving for breath. "I don't think Natsu is—"

"His hair is pink," she cut him off, sharply. "Like my eyes."

"Yeah, but I don't think that—"

"Natsu, do you like my mom?" She asked, straightforward.

"Huh?" He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side. "Well yeah, sure. I like Deena."

Lucy was huffing under her breath and retrieving the now broken hairbrush. "Oh, man." She sighed in exasperation.

Syllestra took a deep breath. She kept her gaze even. "Mr. Dragon… Natsu. Do you think you… could be my dad?"

Lucy's eyes went wide.

"Yeah! Of course I could!"

Lucy's jaw hit the floor.

"R-Really?!" Syllest's face lit up, hands clasping together.

"Yeah, I'd make a great dad!" He rose a fist and grinned in determination.

"I don't think that's what she meant, Natsu," Happy said.

"Course it is!" Natsu beamed. "She needs a dad, right? I'll be the coolest dad ever! I'll be as great as Igneel!" He opened his arms wide to Syllestra. "Come here and give me a hug, pumpkin!"

Syllestra giggled and ran into Natsu's outstretched arms. Happy snickered, Romeo sweatdropped, and Lucy's temple began to pulse.

"I knew my dad had to be someone cool!" Syllest said, as she sat on his knee. "Does this mean you're going to move in with us?"

"Yeah, Natsu, you moving in~?" Happy sang and snickered even louder.

"Huh? I never thought about it. I kinda like the place I've got with Happy." Natsu tapped his chin, as if he were seriously considering this.

"Mom will cook for you! She cooks as good as Auntie Mira!"

"Alright, I'm in!"

"You can't be serious!" Lucy's foot came down.

"Do you got an extra room at your place?"

"No, but Mom has a big bed. You could share with her! That's what mommies and daddies do, right?"

Three pulse marks now stood out on Lucy's head.

"Uh oh, she's gonna blow!" Happy donned a helmet and dove dramatically away from the blonde monster.

"Do they?" Natsu blinked. "I mean sure, it doesn't bother me. I can share a bed with Dreamer!"

"NOW he gets her name right?"

"Romeo, we did it! We found my dad!" Syllest grinned brightly at the little boy, whose sweating face didn't seem so sure.

"Natsu…." Lucy's voice was low and furious. Her fist came down on the top of his head. "You're such an idiot!"

"Ow! What was that for?!"

Lucy lifted Syllest out of Natsu's lap and stood her up. She put both hands on the girl's shoulders. "Syllestra, Natsu's not really your dad." Her voice was gentle. "What's all of this about?"

Syllest looked down at Lucy's boots. "I… I just want to know who my dad is…" The tears sprang back.

"Hey." Lucy ruffled her black bangs and smiled softly. "I know what it's like to lose family, and to wish you got to know them better. But, aren't you happy with the family you have here at Fairy Tail? We're all like your moms and dads and aunts and uncles, aren't we?" She gave an encouraging chuckle.

But her words fell on deaf ears.

The space in Lucy's hands where Syllest had been, was now empty.

"Sorry, Lucy!" Romeo apologized on Syllest's behalf, waved to Lucy and Natsu, and ran after Syllest, who was already approaching a new figure.

It was a scruffy looking man with five-o-clock shadow, whom she'd never seen before.

"Gildarts?" Romeo caught up. "When did you get home?"

The man blinked at the two of them and took a swallow of beer.

"Are you my dad?" Syllest asked, harshly. She had abandoned all formalities, now. In fact, she threw the top hat she was wearing onto Romeo's head. He was now carrying the evidence bag, clip board, coat, top hat, and spa towels.

"What, me?" Gildarts opened his eyes wide and examined her over. "Hell if I know! Who's your mom? Claudia? No, you look more like you could be Lisa's. Gemma?"

"Dreamer."

"Delila?" He facepalmed. "Oh man, I _could_ be your father for all I know."

"No, her name's Dreamer!" Syllest snapped.

"Dandy?"

"DREAMER!"

"Oh… Well I don't think I've ever been with a Dreamer before." He scratched his stubble in thought.

She fumed and turned on her heel. She scanned the faces. He had to be here somewhere. He had to be one of them... She started toward Erik, who was leaning against the bar, chatting with Kinana. Before she could get within ten feet of him, though, his voice came out in a hiss.

"Don't even think about it, kid. Trust me, I'm not him either."

She stopped in her tracks and trembled.

"Syllest, maybe Lucy's right." Romeo said. "Maybe it doesn't really matter who your dad is."

"Yes it DOES!" She pushed past him. Her next target was in sight. A group of people gathered at a table near the stage.

It was Laxus and the Thunder Legion, playing a game of cards.

"Hey!" Syllest called out to them. They ignored her.

"Freed, that was a shit move," Bixlow complained. "You're gonna give Laxus the game if you play like that!"

Freed's cheeks took some color and he hid behind strands of green hair.

"HEY!" Syllest climbed on the stage and shouted again, louder. Again, the four of them ignored her.

"Draw another card, baby," Bixlow taunted Evergreen.

"I hate playing UNO with you, Bix," she snapped, as she drew another "draw 2" card.

Syllest jumped. Right onto the draw pile. Four sets of eyes fell on her. She swallowed in nervousness, but kept her head held high.

"Oh no, how am I gonna tell Dreamer she's dead?" Romeo whimpered, hiding behind a pillar nearby. "When Macbeth finds out I let Laxus kill Syllest… I'm gonna have to leave Fiore!"

"Don't you know it's bad manners to interrupt adults, young lady?" Evergreen snapped, her voice a condescending drawl.

"Bixlow," she was too horrified to ask Laxus first, so she settled on the armor wearing weirdo with the tattooed tongue. "Are you my real dad?"

Bixlow threw his head back and laughed out loud. "You asking me if I shacked up with your mom?" He stuck his tongue out, lewdly. "I'd like to say I did."

Evergreen smacked him in the back of the head. "She's a child, Bixlow. Show some restraint, please. And watch your tongue."

Syllest scowled. There was no way she was related to that freak anyway. She folded her arms over her chest and looked finally at Laxus. He regarded her with a hard expression. Suddenly, she forgot what she was going to ask. All confidence melted away when she looked at the scar over his right eye, and the way his whole body seemed to spark with electricity.

"You asking me now?"

She swallowed dryly and nodded.

"I'm not your father," he said simply.

"Nor am I," Freed added.

"I wasn't going to ask you," Syllest blinked at the green-haired wizard, who immediately began to sulk.

"You're asking the wrong people, kid," Laxus added. "Your dad's probably not a Fairy Tail wizard."

This news hit her like a ton of bricks. Like gravity magic. Like boulder magic. She sat down on the table on all the UNO cards. Her eyes welled with tears once more.

"Whoa! Laxus, man, you made her cry!" Bixlow jumped back. "Dreamer'll kill us if she finds out we made her kid cry!"

Evergreen and Freed both backed away in terror as well.

"It's true. Dreamer is as frightening as Erza when it comes to Syllest," Evergreen said.

"And don't forget Macbeth!" Freed added. "We will be doubly dead!"

"I'm not saying it's impossible," Laxus continued. "But if your father was anyone from Fairy Tail…" His voice drifted off. Syllest perked up, clinging onto his words like a buggy-eyed monkey.

"Who? Who would it be?!" She scooted toward the lightning dragon-slayer.

"Oh yes…" Freed tilted his head in thought. "There _were_ rumors."

"Rumors? About who?!" Her black hair whipped back and forth.

"You're not talking about _him_ , are you?" Bixlow frowned.

"They _did_ seem close," Evergreen's glasses caught in the light as she smirked deviously.

"WHO?!" Syllest was shaking with barely contained energy.

"That's because they _were_ close," a new voice joined the commotion. Erza approached, dressed in a swimming suit. "But I do not think his relationship with Dreamer is relevant to Syllestra's hunt for her father."

"Whose relationship?" Syllest clasped her hands together and begged. "Please, tell me who!"

"Oooh, are you guys talking about Mystogan?" Mira suddenly popped out of nowhere and was sitting next to Laxus, looking positively thrilled by the gossip.

"Mystogan?" Syllest said the name slowly, testing it out.

They all nodded their heads.

"I used to ship them so hard!" Mira squeed. "Dreamogan~ But that was before Macbeth came and Mystogan went back to be king of Edolas."

There was a moment of silence as everyone thought about the friends they'd lost to the parallel world.

"Syllestra," Erza said again, "it's highly unlikely anyone at this guild is your father. Maybe that's something you need to talk to your mother about."

Mira smiled weakly at Syllest. "Yeah. Maybe it's time for Dreamer to talk to you about it. We can ask her together."

"Really? You'd go with me, Auntie Mira?"

"Of course I would!" Mira scooped Syllest off the table and held her up in an embrace. "We're family."

"And I can go with you, Sherlock!" Romeo said, after finally being brave enough to come out from behind the pillar. "I told you I'd help you find your dad, and I will! I promise!"

"And just remember, kid," Laxus said, with a gruff smile. "Fairy Tail is your real family, alright? Blood doesn't matter much in the long run."

Syllest's bottom lip quivered. The same tears that she'd been fighting during this whole adventure welled up in her eyes once more. This time, they spilled over. She cried out loud. Mira snuggled her close, Romeo hugged her as well. In fact, in a few moments, a whole group of Fairy Tail members were group-hugging the little girl. Erza, pulling Syllest's head against her bosom, the Thunder Legion. Even Laxus ruffled her hair.

Syllest pulled away suddenly. "Wait, were Mystogan and my mom really dating?"

Crickets chirped.

Syllestra's face broke out in a wicked grin. She held her hand out to Romeo, who tossed her the top hat and coat. "Watson, what do we have in the evidence bag about 'Mister Wan?'"

"Looks like we have an old mustard sandwich, a scrap of green cloth, and an apple with a bite taken out of it!"

"Perfect! Operation Mustard Sandwich is still ongoing! Come on! Let's go sneak through Mom's closet!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

The Fairy Tail member's all sweat dropped in sync as Romeo and Syllest marched out the guild hall doors.

"And that's the next generation of Fairy Tail…" Evergreen said, with a note of concern.

"Oh, I'm not worried!" Mira smiled. "That kind of determination and friendship will always be a part of what Fairy Tail really is."

There were nods of agreement. And then…

"Did I hears you's right?" A black boot thudded on the table, scattering more UNO cards. "Tall, dark, and mysterious had a t'ing with Dreamy, eh?"

"Piper, you were listening?"

"That bastard! I knew they had a business relationship with those sleepin' pills but I never woulda thought… Where is he? I'll wring his damn neck!"

"Piper, he's in Edolas."

"Open the portal! Someone get me to Edolas, I'm kickin' some ass!"

Cana chucked a beer bottle at his head. "What happened to being over her?!"

Piper flushed, ignoring the bleeding cut on his head. "I-I am over her, babe! It's just the principle, you's know?"

"Yeah, whatever."

He was pleading in front of her. "Honest, doll!"

Mira and Erza giggled at the sight of this exchange.

"Such a lively group of characters, wouldn't you say?" the red-head said fondly.

"Yes. Fairy Tail really is the best family anyone could ask for."

* * *

 **A/N: I had to leave you guys with this cheery filler because the next chapter is... heavy. Prepare yourselves.**

 **I loved your comments on Resmond! Particularly the reviewer that said they'd let Resmond punch them in the face and call them a piece of trash. I think I died laughing. I'm glad I was able to master a simultaneously sexy and horrifying villain.**

 **Howlingwolvesonfire, you mentioned that Resmond reminds you of Mard Geer... Dear god I *knew* someone would say it, dammit. Here's the thing... I created Resmond before even watching the Tartaros arc. I literally had never even heard of Mard Geer before creating my sexy, black-haired, emotionless sociopath who likes roses. When I finally watched the arc, I was cursing under my breath the whole time. Dammit, Mashima-sensei, WHY do we think so much alike?! I have been told by my editor that Resmond is actually more heartless than Mard Geer though, so... that's a relief. And Resmond doesn't have the excuse of being a demon from Zeref's books to explain why he's horrible. He just *is.***

 **Actually, since I introduced two new characters, I guess I'll continue with Simana's request for development information! Would you like to hear about how I came up with Sange, or the King himself?**

 **Lastly, someone asked about Erik's role since he hasn't been mentioned much in the past few chapters. Don't fret, he makes his presence fairly powerful in coming chapters. It should be assumed that, for the time being, he's been carrying out chores for Fairy Tail under Kinana's supervision, much like Macbeth did initially.**


	53. The Truth

**A/N: Hey guys! I want to say, to those of you still following and reading OSD, thank you for your continued support and reviews. I can't help but notice that I lost a good following after I introduced Sânge into the mix, which, as discouraging as that may be, doesn't particularly surprise me. I knew it was a risk, throwing a dragon slayer into my fanfiction. I simply hoped that, by now, I would have established a good enough repertoire with you readers that you would give the character and plot a chance. It's a bit wounding, for sure, but I will continue to deliver for you readers who are loyal to the story and want to see how it progresses. Thank you for staying with me, you guys. It means so much. :)  
**

* * *

 **Chapter 53: The Truth**

Dreamer released a heavy sigh as she reached down to pick up the eighth stuffed animal from Syllest's floor. The room was an absolute disaster. Toys scattered everywhere except the toybox, make-up strewn across the plastic vanity, and random pebbles under just about everything. Plus, she was sure she'd seen a frog hop behind the dresser.

She set to making Syllestra's bed.

Cleaning was all she could do to calm her mind now. She had to keep busy—had to keep in motion. If she sat still for a moment, she knew she'd be lost in her worry. Consumed by thoughts of what might have happened to Jezran and Macbeth. Something _must_ have happened. The days continued to stretch on without a word from either of them. It was slowly killing her.

She tried not to think about this as she pulled Syllestra's pink fleece sheets up and swept the wrinkles from them. She picked up a frilly white pillow to fluff it and set it at the head of the bed, but as she shook the case, she felt something hard under the material. Curious, she slid her hand under the pillow case. Her fingers connected with something short and stiff. She pulled the object out to examine it.

Her eyelids shot open.

"Syllestra…"

There was no mistaking it. A hard hilt, an ornately carved sheath, all crafted from pink diamond. She slid the sheath off and blanched at the sight of a dangerously sharp dual-edged blade.

Syllestra… Her little, innocent Syllestra, had crafted a dagger.

"No…" Dreamer touched the blade with her thumb, then cried out in pain and dropped it on the bed. Purple fire had flared up as soon as her skin brushed the blade part of the dagger. Like there was no mistaking that the diamond was a mark of Syllestra, there was also no mistaking Romeo's purple flames. The two children had created an enchanted diamond blade and Syllest was hiding it under her pillow—right under Dreamer's nose.

* * *

"Thanks for walking me home, Romeo." Syllestra grinned cheekily and gave Romeo a hug. They stood on the sidewalk outside of Mira and Dreamer's apartment, afternoon sunlight shining down on them.

"Well I can't let you walk by yourself," he said, as if this were obvious. His cheeks took some color. "Someone has to keep you safe!"

"Teehee!" The raven-haired child giggled and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Ew! Don't kiss me, Syllest!"

"Sorry! I couldn't help it!" Her face showed no remorse. She giggled again and waved goodbye, before fixing her backpack on her shoulder and hopping the steps to the front door.

"See you at school!" Romeo waved in return before heading his own direction.

Syllest went inside and dropped her star-patterned backpack on the floor. "Auntie Mira! Piper? Mom? I'm home!" She started toward the back hallway that led to the bedrooms. But before she reached the archway, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Mom?"

Dreamer sat on the couch, as still as a statue. So still and quiet that Syllest hadn't even noticed her. Her eyes were closed, lips pinched together, and her face looked pale. For some reason, something about her made rocks sink in Syllest's stomach. She knew she was in trouble.

"Syllest…" she sounded tired or sick, or both.

Syllest put her hands behind her back and toes together, bracing for what was coming.

Dreamer leaned back and reached into her gray vest-pocket. She pulled out something that made Syllest gasp.

"Do you want to tell me what this is?" The diamond dagger rested in her palm, pink hilt matching her eyes, but for the dull glow in them.

"I don't know." Syllest dropped her head shamefully, black bangs hanging in front of her eyes. "I've never seen it before."

" _Don't_." Dreamer snapped, loudly. Then somewhat softer, "Don't do that, Syllestra. Don't lie to me."

The child swallowed and looked up at her mother with determined eyes. "I… I just thought…"

"You've been practicing your magic with Romeo!" She slammed the diamond dagger onto the coffee table and stood up, shoulders shaking with fury. "How did the two of you learn enchantment?! How dare you go behind my back like that, Syllestra!"

"I had to!" Syllest screamed back, tears welling in her eyes. "You n _ever_ let me do magic!"

"It's dangerous, Syllestra! _Especially your_ magic!" Her eyes were wet with tears too. "As if I don't have enough to worry about with Macbeth and Jezran gone! I can't take this! I can't believe you would make a _weapon_ out of diamonds!"

"I made it so I could fight the bad guys when they come to take us away, Mom!" Tears rolled down her face. Her white hands clenched into fists. "I want to be strong! I want to fight too, just like Macbeth and Grandpa are fighting! I'm strong!"

Dreamer didn't answer immediately. The only sound in the room was the choked sobs coming from them both. "What do you mean, 'when the bad guys come?'" she asked finally.

"I'm not stupid!" Syllest wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. "I listen, you know?! Even when you think you're being quiet, I hear you! You keep secrets too!" She shouted furiously, little body wracked with sobs. "That man! The bad man called The King of Diamonds, he's trying to kill us and he's the one Macbeth and Pops went to fight! I know it!"

Dreamer winced at both Syllest's harsh tone, and the mention of Resmond.

"Why does he want to hurt us, Mommy?" she cried out and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Vulnerable. Terrified.

"Syllest…" Dreamer couldn't speak. The words lodged in her throat. She could only stare at her little girl, hyperventilating a few feet in front of her. Syllest, with that same long, raven hair. With that same pale skin. The same magic. She might have had Rosy's pink eyes, and her beautiful smile, but in so many more ways, she resembled her father. She resembled the man who murdered Dreamer's sister.

"Is he my dad?"

Dreamer's breath caught in her throat. Syllest was looking at her in desperation. Tears streaked her cheeks and dripped from her petite chin, wetting the fabric of the green striped romper she wore.

"The King of Diamonds," she whimpered. "He uses diamond magic like me, right?" Her voice was a shaky whisper. "Because he's my dad."

Dreamer collapsed weakly onto the couch, stumbling backward as if hit by a physical blow. She looked down, unable to answer. It was all the confirmation the girl needed.

"That's why you hate my magic, right?" Syllest accused, raising her voice again. "You hate it because my dad uses it too, and you hate him! And you hate me too!"

"N-No, Syllest, I—"

"Why do you hate him?! If he's my dad and you're my mom, why don't you love him?! Why is he trying to find us?! Why are Macbeth and Grandpa trying to get him?!"

"Syllestra…" Dreamer put her face in her hands. "I'm sorry."

The littler girl continued to sob, her tears splashing onto the carpet below. "Tell me the truth, Mommy…"

Dreamer couldn't take it anymore. She stumbled off the couch and on her knees to pull Syllest into an embrace. They wept in each other's arms, black hair swirling with cream. Pink eyes snapped shut as the tears fell. Mother and daughter. Aunt and niece. Family. All the pain and strain of years of this unnatural relationship finally breached the surface. For a moment, they were both children. A seven-year-old and a thirteen-year-old, scared and alone and confused. For a moment, Dreamer was the young teen forced to make the impossible choice to raise her infant niece all alone, in a world where murderers ran free and magic couldn't save the ones she loved.

"Okay," Dreamer whispered against her hair—that raven-black hair. "I'll tell you."

She took the child's hand in hers and gave her the most broken, forced smile she could manage.

"Let's get ice cream," she said, through tears. "And I'll tell you the truth."

Syllest whimpered and nodded. Her fingers squeezed around Dreamer's hand, revealing her desperation. Her trust.

Dreamer led her out onto the streets of Magnolia. They walked silently, but for the occasional sniffle. Her body was stiff, heart somewhere in her throat as she braced herself for the conversation she had always known she would one day have with her Syllestra. She knew she should have had it sooner, but… She glanced down at the little girl walking beside her. _I just wanted to protect you._

They stopped and got ice cream cones. Two scoops of vanilla for Dreamer, a strawberry and a chocolate chip scoop for Syllest. After this, Dreamer led her to a nearby bench, where they sat in the late afternoon sunlight, soothing the pain with sugar.

"Syllest… you're right." Dreamer's voice quavered. "The King… That man is your father."

The child listened quietly—she listened thoughtfully, in a mature way that a seven-year-old should not have to.

"But… Syllest he's…" She gave a wavering sigh. "He's a really _bad_ man. Do you understand? He's hurt a lot of people, and he's trying to hurt us too."

"…Why?" She weakly licked a drip of strawberry ice cream.

"I… I don't know." This was the truth. Dreamer understood Resmond's motivations as much as she understood quantum magical physics. "But I know that he's really strong. The magic he uses, and you use… It's called Diamond-Make magic, and it creates the hardest natural substance in earthland. It's rare, and it can be used to make all kinds of things, including weapons." She swallowed. "And you already learned that it can be enchanted, too, which just makes it even more dangerous."

Syllest was looking at the palm of her free hand, imagining the magic circle that often appeared there.

"Your dad… He uses it to do horrible things. His diamonds are enchanted with dark magic, and he uses them to hurt people. He _kills_ people, Syllest."

Syllestra's little palm closed. Ice cream dripped on her lap. "Are you afraid I'm going to kill people too?"

Dreamer's eyelashes fluttered open wide in shock. "No, Syllest, I…" The memories flashed. The sound of Rosy's screams. Running. Too late. Her body at his feet. The black diamond dagger in his hand, so reminiscent of the one Syllest had created on her own… "I'm just afraid that you're too young to be using a magic that powerful."

"But I want to use my diamonds for good things!" She protested, stubbornly, meeting Dreamer's eyes. "I want to use them to protect my friends, not hurt them! I'm not like that man!"

"I…" Dreamer looked at her melting cone in shame. "I know…"

Did she? When she saw Syllest use her diamond magic, all she felt was fear. All she could see was Resmond, standing over Rosy's body, the wicked smile on his lips. Was Dreamer really trying to protect Syllest? Or was she trying to protect herself?

"Why did you marry him if he's so bad?" Syllest asked, as her child-like mind tried to understand the logic.

Dreamer's heart sank. Uninterested in her ice cream cone now, she tossed it into the garbage can next to her. "I didn't."

Syllest blinked at her, eyelashes encircling those oversized eyes.

"Syllest… I'm sorry." If somehow she could make the child see, she'd just wanted to keep her safe from him. She'd just wanted to give her the life she deserved.

"Why are you still crying, Mom?" Syllest's lip quivered. Her intuition detected something hidden, but she was too young to understand.

"Syllestra, I'm not your mom."

The sentence hung in the air, the words frozen between them. The top scoop of Syllest's ice cream splattered onto the bench.

"Yes, you are," she argued, but there was panic in her eyes.

"No." Dreamer shook her head fiercely, slinging tears. "I've taken care of you since you were a baby, but I'm not your mom. I'm your aunt."

Syllest trembled. She threw her ice cream cone. "You're lying!"

"I'm not." Dreamer wanted her to understand. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the matching pools of pink. _Trust. Trust. Love. Please, know that I love you._

Syllest sniffled, her body seemed to relax, ever so slightly.

"Your mom." Dreamer smiled weakly. "Her name was Rosy. She was my big sister." Instinctively, she reached and cupped Syllest's face. "She was my best friend."

The sun continued to set behind this exchange. Only a few citizens of Magnolia walked by on the sidewalk, but if they noticed the intensity of the conversation happening on the bench, they said nothing of it. Everyone was dealing with their own problems, their own business. This time belonged to Dreamer and Syllest.

"When you were a baby, your mom died." She still couldn't bring herself to telling her that Resmond had killed her. That her father had slaughtered her mother. "So I took care of you. I kept you safe from that bad man, and I told you I was your mom, so you wouldn't feel alone."

Her poor young mind seemed to barely be processing this news.

"I'm sorry I never told you the truth, Syllest. And I'm sorry for the way I treat you and your magic. I just… I only ever wanted to protect you. And I'm scared."

Without warning, the little girl placed her hand on Dreamer's. She uttered words that jolted Dreamer to the very core.

"Don't be scared, Mommy."

Dreamer stared at her. Amazingly, by some miracle, the girl was smiling. Black hair framed her round face. Her cheeks were bright, eyes shimmering. Her smile was Rosy's.

"My dad can't hurt us." There was wild determination in her eyes. "Because we're part of Fairy Tail. We're strong! And our family is strong!" She squeezed Dreamer's hand. "So we don't have to be scared of anything."

"Syllest, I…" She was lost for words.

"It's okay." She leaned against Dreamer's arm. "I forgive you. You're still my mom."

"H-How can you say that?" After she'd told her the truth? After she'd practically admitted to being terrified of Syllest's magic?

"Blood doesn't matter, in the long run," the child recited, as if she'd only recently heard this phrase. "Mom, I don't care if you're not my real mom! Auntie Mira's not really my real aunt, right? And Uncle Piper, and Grandpa Jezran. They're my family because I love them!"

A sense of incomparable awe settled on Dreamer. She stared at the vibrant face of this child in utter disbelief. Somehow, Syllest understood something that Dreamer had never been able to grasp. A depth of wisdom had been granted to a seven-year-old, the kind of understanding that people spend lifetimes trying to achieve.

"And I don't care if that King of Diamonds is my real dad, because he doesn't act like a dad! Daddies shouldn't hurt their families!" She huffed, angrily. "That's why my real daddy is gonna kick his ass!"

"Syllestra Raine Cumula!"

She grinned sheepishly, and snuggled against Dreamer's arm.

"Wait, who's your 'real' daddy?"

"Macbeth, silly!"

Dreamer flushed and gave an awkward cough. She chocked this choice up to Syllestra's insane logic.

"Mom… I love you."

"Oh Syllestra…" Dreamer kissed her forehead.

"Do you… love me too?" Her eyes were wide with uncertainty.

"Of course I do!" She squeezed her tightly. "I love you, Syllest. You're my daughter, no matter what!" She scooped the child onto her lap and looked apologetically at her. "I'm sorry I made you think I didn't like you because of your magic."

Syllest played with the strings on Dreamer's vest.

"Am I still grounded from using it?"

Dreamer swallowed and was silent for a moment. "…No. You're right. If you want to use your magic to protect your friends and family, I can't stop you. And I don't want to you to have to hide things from me ever again."

Syllest threw her arms around Dreamer's neck and hugged her tightly.

It was strange. Everything in the world seemed to be going wrong. Resmond, Diamant Blanc, Macbeth and Jezran disappearing… but Syllest had somehow convinced Dreamer that it wasn't so bad. Strange, the emotion mage had to be calmed down by a child. By her _daughter_ …

She leaned back on Dreamer's lap with a befuddled expression.

"What's wrong?"

"I really thought you and Mystogan were my Mommy and Daddy." Her bottom lip pouted.

Dreamer's cheeks flushed.

"W-What? Mystogan? What on earth gave you that idea?!"

"Everyone says you went on dates in the forest!" Syllest beamed. "And I found this in your closet!" She pulled a letter out of her pocket, which Dreamer immediately snatched out of her hands.

"We weren't dating—you know what, it doesn't matter. Don't ever mention this again." Her face was the same color as the sunset. "Especially not around Macbeth, okay? You'll be grounded for a week!"

Syllest giggled. "Ooookay, whatever you say, Mom. I won't tell Macbeth."

"Won't tell me what?"

Dreamer and Syllest gasped. Syllest crawled off Dreamer's lap and faced the sound of the familiar, drawling voice.

There, walking down the sidewalk toward them, outlined by the setting sun, were Macbeth and Jezran.

They looked worn. Their clothes had rips in them, and Jezran was leaning against Macbeth for support as he walked, a thick bandage around his thigh. Macbeth's skin was littered with small cuts that had scabbed over. But despite their tattered appearance, there was a liveliness in both of their eyes when they saw Dreamer and Syllest. Jezran proffered up a mustached smile. Macbeth's red eyes gleamed, a smirk already dancing on his lips.

"You're home!" Syllest ran to them. She threw her arms around their legs, causing Jezran to grunt in amused pain.

Dreamer's hands were clasped in front of her chest, tears spilling down her face as she looked at him. His swirling red eyes met hers. There was a depth there, unspoken darkness about what had transpired in their absence. But there was also _relief, excitement. Joy_.

"You're safe," she whispered.

Once Syllestra had been pried off their legs, Jezran knelt and pulled open his pack, bearing gifts. She squealed in delight when he produced a small doll. Meanwhile, Macbeth strode purposefully toward Dreamer. Her breath caught in her throat as he closed the distance between them.

"What happened to you?" she whispered quietly. Up close, his cuts were more profound.

"Shut up."

He wrapped his arms around her. She inhaled sharply at the act, tensing up immediately. The reflector-wizard said nothing more. Just held her close, burying his face against her hair. For the tiniest moment, she thought she could feel him fighting tears. She breathed in his chamomile scent and returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist as a deep sense of relief washed over her.

He was home. He was alive. He was in her arms.

Syllest giggled, snapping her out of the reverie. She was whispering in Jezran's ear, and he was looking thoroughly amused.

"What secrets are you keeping from me, Dream?" Macbeth whispered against her ear. She could feel the smirk.

She blushed harshly.

"Come on," she pulled away from him. "We need to get you guys back to the guild before we catch up."

Macbeth chuckled under his breath. Jezran righted himself and began to limp forward, until Dreamer and Macbeth went to help support him. Together, the three of them—with a little black-haired tornado bustling in circles around their feet—returned to the Fairy Tail guild hall.

They were home.

* * *

 **A/N: I had a guest ask me to write a chapter which shows what Mystogan said in his letter to Dreamer. xD I don't think you know what you're asking for, friend. Lemme tell you, 40% of that would be the sappiest poetry you've ever read, comparing Dreamer to everything from the sunrise to the sunset. The other 60% is probably the most embarrassing lemony erotica of all Mystogan's detailed fantasies involving her, which embarrasses me to think about just as much as it embarrasses Dreamer to read. So, I'm going to let your imagination fill in the details of the letter. HOWEVER, I will say that one of my post-fic fillers IS an entire chapter showing when Dreamer and Mystogan met for the first time. You can look forward to that. ;)**


	54. Part of the Light

**Chapter 54: Part of the Light**

The mood in the room was grim.

The guild hall was relatively empty. Most had went home for the night. Those who remained were Master Makarov, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the stage in front of a gathered group of Fairy Tail members. All of Team Derelict Heart, Erik, Gajeel, Mirajane, Wendy and Carla.

Macbeth stood in front of Makarov, hands buried in his pockets, coat and scarf discarded so that he wore only the black halter top that revealed his waist, and his dream catcher necklace. His bare shoulders revealed both of his guild marks, the red "Seis" and the pink "Fairy Tail." To his left stood Dreamer, in her gray jacket vest and black striped leggings. Her own guild mark was nearly flush against his. To his right was Jezran, in a white muscle shirt, fresh bandages wrapped tightly around his leg. Piper sat on the edge of a table, one leg dangling while the other rested on the bench. Mirajane stood next to Dreamer, a hand on her shoulder as a comforting gesture. Gajeel stood arms folded behind Macbeth while Erik sat a little further from everyone else, eyes closed as he listened. Wendy and Carla sat on the stage next to Makarov.

At the moment, no one was speaking. Several heads were bowed in thought, including Master Makarov's. Finally, he released a long sigh.

"So, Resmond had already moved the Nikolana Device when you arrived, and you walked into a trap." It was more of a statement than a question. He had already heard the story, but was trying to grasp it.

"That's right." Macbeth kept his red stare on the old master.

"And you say you fought a dragon-slayer?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Sânge," Erik scoffed.

"You know the guy?" Gajeel turned a hard gaze on Erik, scarred arms folded over his chest.

"I never met him," Erik shrugged. He still didn't open his eyes. "I only worked for The King for a little while, but I heard some things about him. A real nut-job that guy."

"Yes, I can attest to that, dear me." Jezran chuckled before absently rubbing the inside of his thigh where Sânge had severed an artery.

"Hm." Makarov stroked his mustache and sighed heavily. "This is more serious than I thought."

"What are you thinking, Master?" Mira asked, as she massaged Dreamer's tense shoulder.

"He's thinking that it's bad news," Erik answered for him. "It's a bad sign that Resmond was thinking so far ahead, and that he's powerful enough to have a dragon-slayer on his side."

"I can speak for myself, young man," Makarov chided. Erik simply smirked and shrugged.

"It certainly is cause for concern," Makarov continued.

Dreamer was trembling faintly. Her cream hair hid her face as she stared at her feet.

"And there are no clues as to where he might have moved the device?"

"If there were," Macbeth said, darkly, "they're not there anymore."

He and Jezran recalled the devastating explosion. It was through sheer luck they had survived it themselves. Macbeth had used his reflector magic in attempt to make a shield as the rubble fell on them. Luckily, his magic succeeded in protecting them from the largest of boulders, but they had still wound up buried under the wreckage of the cave. It was the villagers who came and freed them, after several long hours trapped. Though Jezran had been able to bandage his leg with torn strips of his shirt, by the time they were rescued he had fainted from blood loss. They'd stayed in the village for three days while he recovered. When he was well enough to walk, they'd gone back to investigate the cave and see if they could find anything that would lead them to Resmond. The earth was far too scarred to make out any signs, however.

"That's unfortunate." Makarov sighed again.

"There has to be something we can do…" Dreamer's voice was a whimper. "We have to find him."

Several sets of sympathetic eyes fell on her. Mira leaned her head against her shoulder.

"I am very sorry, my dear," Jezran said. "I would have stayed to continue tracking him, dear me, but with my injury and the loss of our communication cards, it seemed unwise."

She clenched a tight fist, still hiding her face as tears began to fall.

"You did well, old friend." Makarov gave Jezran an encouraging smile. "You deserve to rest for now. Wendy will continue to see to your leg."

"I will!" Wendy nodded with determination.

"And I could always ask Porlyusica to give you a check-up, if necessary." Makarov's eyes twinkled and Jezran chuckled.

"That will not be necessary, I assure you, dear me."

"We can't give up now," Dreamer said, her voice a little more frantic. "We were so close! We need to keep looking!"

"Doll, you's need to take a deep breath," Piper looked at her with concern.

"Dreamer, I think everyone needs a break," Mira said, as soothingly as possible. "Especially you. Maybe everyone can relax for a few days before—"

"No!" Dreamer yanked away from her. " _Relax_? How are we supposed to relax when he's out there somewhere?"

"Hey, come on girly," Gajeel said. "Take a couple of days to just be grateful Beth and the old man made it back alive." He clasped a hand on Macbeth's shoulder, who winced slightly at the motion. "Come on, tell Beth here how much you missed him."

"Get your hand off of me before I rip it off, Gajeel," Macbeth said darkly.

Gajeel laughed out loud and pinched Macbeth's cheek, who simply took it, while looking thoroughly unamused.

"I'm sorry…" Dreamer wiped her eyes. "I _am_ glad you two are okay." She wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. "You're right. We should all rest for a few days."

"Liar."

She glanced over in shock at Erik, whose beady eyes were fixed on her.

"This idiot thinks she'll run off and find Resmond on her own while you have your down time, Midnight."

Dreamer wished her glare was strong enough to kill him. This thought just made him laugh.

"Yeah, I know. I'm a tattle-tell, right?"

Now there were red eyes fixed on her as well. Macbeth's face showed a thinly veiled warning. She gasped when she felt fingers thread painfully through hers.

"She'll do no such thing," he hissed, blood-swirling eyes focused intently on hers.

"That's enough," Makarov snapped. He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, eyes on Dreamer. "Child, we all understand the severity of this situation."

"No, you don't!" she snapped. "He's _evil!_ He won't stop until—"

"Dreamer Cumula!" The Master used his magic to make his shout echo in the guild hall. Erik winced and slammed his hands over his ears. "Your lack of faith in your guild and its members is disturbing at the very least! Do you doubt that your family will protect you and Syllestra from this man? Is your trust in the people who love and support you really so empty?"

Dreamer winced at his words, instinctively shrinking back. Piper winced too, remembering the same kind of lecture he'd received about having more faith in Dreamer.

"As long as I live, no harm will befall any of my children!" He fumed. "And if you think anyone in this room would not give their life to keep you safe, then you are sorely mistaken!"

She tried to lift her hands to weep into them, but Macbeth's fingers were still tight around hers, so she clutched onto him instead. His mouth parted in surprise, but he did nothing as she sobbed against his chest. Mira frowned and stroked her hair as she wept.

Makarov calmed down. "I command Team Derelict Heart to take a vacation. In the meantime, the rest of us will continue to seek out Resmond. Is that clear, Dreamer?"

"…I understand." Her voice was muffled against Macbeth's shirt.

"Erik?" Makarov glanced at the poison dragon-slayer.

"She's not planning to run off," he answered the unspoken question.

"Good. Then this meeting is dismissed."

He hopped off the stage and made for the doors, his little shoulders as tense as everyone else in the room.

Jezran bowed low before Wendy, mustache brushing the wood floor. "My lady, I am in your debt for the healing services you will provide for me. Please, dear me, if there is anything you require, I will procure it for you post-haste."

Wendy blushed. "N-No, that's okay! I just want to help!"

"I can buy you an estate on the hills outside of Magnolia if you would like?"

"I really don't think that's neces—"

"I will have a tailor-made ball gown fashioned for you, crafted entirely from gold thread."

Wendy fidgeted, flustered by the encounter. Carla folded her paws and smiled smugly.

"You are quite a gentleman, Jezran. If only the other heathens in this guild would learn a thing or two from you." Her judgmental eyes scanned over the other men in the room.

Dreamer cried against Macbeth until he pried her off of him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just… I'm sorry."

She collapsed to her knees and continued to weep. Her friends gathered comfortingly around her, but could only watch in sympathy as the emotion overwhelmed her.

"Come on, Dreamer," Mira knelt down and hugged her tightly. "Let's go home. I'll make you some tea and you can take a hot bath with lavender."

Dreamer nodded through sniffles and clung to her friend. Mira led her out. Macbeth watched them leave, his eyes lingering on Dreamer as she walked. Then, he looked at Piper.

"…"

"Ah, shit…" Piper's green eyes narrowed. "It took me three hours to clean that damn bathroom, so if you's screw it up—"

Macbeth smirked.

"Goddammit, Mac! Why don't you's move in with Gajeel and leave me the hell alone?!"

"I ain't dealin' with the snoring," Gajeel snapped.

Erik chuckled under his breath. "Remember dog piling with the rest of the Seis to sleep, Midnight?" He sent him a wink. "I had to wear ear phones to drown you out."

Piper moped heavily, bottom lip jutted out in a pout. "Well, havin' my own room was nice while it lasted."

Macbeth simply continued to smirk as he turned on his boot heels to go to that very room.

"Hey, Beth, we're practicing for our gig tomorrow, so get some good sleep!"

Macbeth waved in understanding.

Erik glanced at Gajeel, who bared his teeth at him. "He's _my_ best pal, got it?"

"You keep saying that," Erik smirked. "I hear ya loud and clear."

"N-No, really, Jezran, I don't need all of that!" Wendy was still defensively flailing her hands in front of the old man.

"Oh, I don't know, Wendy," Carla said, amused. "I could use a diamond studded cat-bowl…"

* * *

 **The following day:**

Gajeel strummed his acoustic guitar on the stage. Next to him, Macbeth sat with his arms crossed behind his head, leaned against the wall, eyes scanning lazily over the Fairy Tail members. The hall was fairly laid back—with music playing low, beer mugs galore (including the two that sat empty between the two men), and the low murmur of conversation.

At the bar, Dreamer was leaned over the counter chatting with Mirajane. She still seemed anxious, but that was to be expected. At least she was smiling and talking exuberantly with her friend at the moment. It appeared that she was at least making an effort to take it easy today.

He watched her with muted interest. Her cream-colored hair had gotten longer since they first met, and now brushed between her shoulder blades. She was currently wearing an outfit he'd never seen her in. It looked new, and revealed considerably more skin than she usually showed. He'd learned long ago that she purposely refrained from showing her stomach or thighs, to aid in the lie that she was Syllestra's mother. For whatever reason, her paranoia seemed to have died down over the past few months, and that was evident in the clothes she wore at the moment.

It was a short, peach-colored dress with a brown belt that hung loosely from her waist. She didn't wear leggings underneath it, only thigh-high socks and flats, so the upper portion of her smooth legs was exposed, brushed teasingly by the short, ruffled hem of her dress/long shirt-thing.

Mira slid a drink to Wakaba and then leaned over the counter to whisper something in Dreamer's ear. The girl stiffened a bit, then turned her gaze toward the stage. She gave Macbeth a cheery smile and wave. He stared at her in response until she turned back to Mira with slightly rosy cheeks. The taller girl burst into giggles.

"She's got it hard for you, man," Gajeel said. He hummed under his breath and kept strumming a low melody.

"What gives you that impression?" Macbeth's tone was carefully void of emotion. He yawned and sat cross-legged in his usual position.

"That cutesie wave sure as hell wasn't for me," the iron-slayer said. He put his guitar pick between his teeth and tuned some strings.

"I _am_ her teammate," Macbeth pointed out. His posture expressed disinterest, but his red eyes remained fixed on the woman at the bar.

"That don't mean nothing." Gajeel straightened up a bit. "Everyone sees it, you know? You shoulda seen the way she was acting while you and the old man were gone. I've seen stray puppies look happier than that." He nodded in her direction. "Watch when she walks away."

Macbeth withheld a smirk and obeyed his friend's prompting. After a few moments, Dreamer was walking away from the bar to join Lucy and Levy at a table.

"That's called the tail wag," Gajeel nudged him with an elbow.

"What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?" Macbeth asked mockingly, though he had a pretty good idea.

"Swinging her hips, walkin' practically on tip toes, posture straight. That's all for you, Beth."

"Feh." Macbeth shrugged, but his eyes lingered on the edge of her dress—on the way it swished back and forth with the sway of her hips while she walked.

"Five hundred jule says she looks over her shoulder in three seconds."

"You're on."

"One…" The two men watched her like ravenous hawks from onstage. "Two…" Macbeth crossed his arms over his chest. "Three."

As if on cue, Dreamer's hair swept gently to the side as she glanced over her shoulder at the stage. She blushed at the sight of the men looking at her, and quickly turned away. Macbeth smacked a wad of cash into Gajeel's outstretched hand.

"Told you." Gajeel slipped the money into his pocket. "She's got the hots for you."

Macbeth didn't respond. He continued to watch Dreamer talk with the other girls, in muted interest. Levy gave them both hugs and left the guild hall toward the library. Lucy and Dreamer kept talking, joined eventually by Kinana and Laki as well.

His mind mulled over the past few months—all the time he'd spent with her. Her blush whenever he teased her—her whine when he pushed her too far. The flustered panic on her face when they'd walked through the rose garden together and she'd realized it was like a date. The terror in her eyes when he accidentally groped her boob on the magic carpet. Her sleeping head rested against him on that trip home. The time she replaced his nightmares with the sweetest dream he'd ever had. The night she laid in his bed while he made one of the hardest choices of his life. More recently, when they sat on the bench in the garden and she'd expected him to kiss her…

"What are you gonna do about it?" Gajeel asked, shocking him out of his memories. He handed his guitar to Macbeth, who took it with some hesitance.

"About what?" He leaned back and practiced plucking a few strings. He still wasn't very good.

"You gonna chase that tail?" The iron dragon-slayer folded his arms over his chest and got off the chair to join Macbeth on the floor.

"No." Finally, he looked away from Dreamer in favor for focusing on the guitar.

"Really?" Gajeel raised his eyebrows, as if this was the last response he was expecting. He furrowed his brow in thought. "Wait… The lipstick, the long hair, the heels, the girly earrings… This whole time…" He scooted two feet away from Macbeth. "Just so ya know, you and me are friends, alright?! I don't swing that way, so if you get any crazy ideas—"

"Gajeel, I'm not gay," he cut him off and rolled his eyes.

"That's a damn relief because I'm not sure I could've kept giving you one-on-one guitar lessons if you were."

Macbeth smirked and chuckled under his breath at his idiot friend.

"I don't get it." Gajeel scooted back over and furrowed his brow in consternation. "If you ain't interested in guys, then why _aren't_ you chasing Dream?"

" _You_ call her Dreamer," Macbeth warned. Dream was _his_ name for her. No one else's.

Gajeel bared a fang with his knowing smirk. "Well? You really mean to tell me you're not interested at all?"

Macbeth's lips were a thin line. He sat the guitar down. His mind went back—back to his first job at Fairy Tail, when he and Dreamer were tasked with babysitting a little boy while his mother finalized the adoption. He remembered standing in the dark of an alleyway next to scum, watching the light radiating from the cherry-blossom-eyed woman.

"It doesn't matter if I'm interested or not." His voice was dark. "I won't pursue her."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

"Why don't you tell me anyway?"

Macbeth sighed in obvious irritation. "For the same reason you're not pursuing Levy."

Gajeel's cheeks took on some color and he gave a pout. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Midnight smirked. "I'm not a fool, Gajeel. All of the things you said about Dreamer could be said about Levy McGarden toward you. The tail wag." His smirk widened at the ridiculous analogy.

"That ain't true!" Gajeel's muscles tensed, pout deepening. "I'm her teammate!"

"To quote the iron-slayer, 'that don't mean nothing.'" Macbeth teased.

"Hey, at least I ain't leading her on making her think I'm after her when I'm not!" Gajeel's tone was accusing. It seemed to instantly sour Macbeth's mood.

"Gajeel." His face was dark, red eyes shadowed. He watched Dreamer forcing a smile at something Lucy had said. She was trying so hard to be the sunlight. "You don't respond to Levy's advances because you know it would be futile." The shadows danced in his eyes. "The two of you are from different worlds. The world of light and the world of darkness. Phantom Lord may not have been a dark guild, but toward the end of its reign, it may as well have been. Even the Oracion Seis heard stories of the vicious Black-Steel Gajeel." The room seemed to grow quieter in the space around them as the conversation took this turn.

"You were raised to be selfish—to care for nothing other than your own ambitions and pleasures. You flourished in dark and desolate cages, trapped away from the light. But she…" Cherry blossom eyes, rosy blush, a smile like sunlight. "She grew like a flower in a garden, nourished by light and goodness. She doesn't know how to be selfish. She might have seen the dark, but it's never been a part of her. You can't pursue her because dark can't have anything to do with light like that. Thorns choke out flowers, the way you and I would crush Levy and Dreamer."

There was a long silence. Macbeth had never spoken so openly about his feelings like this. His words echoed in the space between them for an eternity.

"You're wrong. "

His eyes widened and he looked at Gajeel, whose face was set as the steel he represented.

"I used to feel that way, sure," he continued. "I sure as hell didn't feel like I belonged here or anywhere near Levy after the shit I pulled with Phantom Lord. Destroying Fairy Tail's guild hall, beating Levy and her friends unconscious and pinning her to a tree…" Deep regret lined his iron-studded face. "But I sorta realized something after all the time I've been here with these freaks." He smiled weakly.

"The thing about darkness and light," he went on, "is that darkness just don't win. How many times have you turned on a light in a room and the darkness put it out? It just don't happen. Being in Fairy Tail's taught me that light is hella stronger than darkness. Strong enough that even an asshole like me can be changed by it. I mean, it ain't like I'm ever gonna be some goody two-shoes, but I ain't the same guy I was with Phantom Lord. Same way you're not the same guy you were with the Seis.

And as far as Pinky and Shorty… You got another thing comin' if you think you can darken lights like that. You can't even put a dent in them. It'd be like trying to put out a whole forest fire by blowing on it. It ain't happening. So, if that's your reason for giving Dreamer the cold-shoulder, you're gonna have to come up with a better excuse than that, cuz I ain't buying it."

Macbeth stared at his friend with wide, wavering eyes. "If what you say is true…" he tried to counter. "Then why h _aven't_ you pursued Levy?"

Gajeel huffed and shrunk a little bit. "Hell, I don't know… I guess I'm just shy."

The dual-haired wizard threw his head back and laughed out loud.

"IT AIN'T FUNNY, ASSHOLE!" Gajeel settled back down. "Look, all I'm saying is… You're a member of Fairy Tail now, Beth. That means you're a part of the light whether you like it or not. So you gotta make up your mind. You going after your girl or you gonna leave her hanging with black lipstick on her forehead all the time?"

Macbeth gave a noncommittal shrug. "I'm not interested."

"That so?" Gajeel scoffed. "You ain't fooling me. Y'know I saw you lookin' at her boobs this morning at the pool."

Mira had dragged Dreamer along to the pool, or more specifically the hot tub, early this morning as a means to help her relax. In fact, the she-demon was practically waiting on hand-and-foot at Dreamer's beckon today, doing everything in her power to distract her best friend from the Resmond situation. Macbeth, and the rest of Team Derelict Heart, had been drinking tea by the spa while this occurred—since Jezran insisted that everyone have tea with honey every single morning to keep from getting sick. Now that Macbeth was a member of the team, he was required to participate in this ritual as well, whether he liked it or not.

Dreamer had been wearing a flowery string-bikini, not that he was thinking about it.

He rolled his eyes. "We already established that I'm not gay. Consequently, I may be caught admiring the female form, like anyone else." His tone was his usual mocking drawl. He did not deny Gajeel's accusation.

"I'd buy it if she was the only chick out there in a swimsuit, but the she-demon was out there too, and if we're talking only about admiring the female form, hate to say it but there's more to look at in that department with her, if you know what I mean." Currently, Mira was leaned over the counter chatting with Wakaba, her breasts pumped up by her black dress.

"I can't say I've noticed," Macbeth yawned in response.

"Of course you haven't," Gajeel laughed, "cuz you only got eyes for _Sweet Dream_."

Macbeth's eyebrow twitched in irritation. He closed his eyes. "I'm growing bored with this topic of conversation. If you're done being a pest, I'd like to sleep now."

"No problem." Gajeel stood up and stretched. Macbeth opened one eye and watched him jump off the stage and start toward the table of girls.

"Where are you going?" He raised an eyebrow, suspicious of the dragon-slayer's motives.

"We're done talkin,' right?" Gajeel gave a mock salute and walked between the tables, straight toward where Dreamer and the others were sitting. Macbeth watched through narrowed eyes, a shadow crossing over him.

"Hey." Gajeel nodded at the table of women.

"Oh, hello, Gajeel." They smiled at him. "What's up?"

"What were you and Macbeth talking about?" Dreamer asked, curiosity getting the better of her. She couldn't help but notice the two of them had been glancing in her direction several times in the past few minutes. It was making her jittery. While she was still finding it difficult not to think about Resmond, she couldn't deny how good it felt to have Macbeth home again—to catch his red eyes peering at her with their piercing stare. And she kept thinking about how he'd hugged her when they were reunited, or about their night in the garden when he almost kissed her. Thinking about all of that was definitely a distraction from the more serious issues in her life at the moment.

"Not much," Gajeel shrugged. "Just catchin' up with my best buddy, that's all."

Dreamer gave a sweet laugh. "It's cute how close you two are."

"Funny, that's the second time I've heard that." Gajeel pouted, blushing a bit.

Macbeth watched from the stage as Dreamer giggled at something Gajeel had said, and as Gajeel's cheeks took some color.

"Sorry, Gajee," Laki said. "But Levy just left to decipher some script. I think she's in the library if you're looking for her."

"What makes ya think I'm looking for that shrimp?" Gajeel cut his eyes away, blush spreading.

"Oh, no reason…" Kinana giggled and the other girls joined in.

"Girls…" Gajeel grumbled under his breath. "Actually, I was hopin' Dreamer could help me with something." His narrowed eyes fixated on the girl.

"I'm not going to persuade Levy to like you, Gajeel," Dreamer teased, causing more giggles. It was about time she got a chance to tease Gajeel for once. Usually it was him and Macbeth teaming up to mess with her. Revenge was sweet.

"I DON'T WANT HER TO LIKE ME, DAMMIT!" He pushed his fingers to his temples. "You got sadistic sense of humor just like Mr. Drag Queen," he commented, while—much to the surprise of the entire group—putting an arm around her shoulder.

"Gajeel?" Dreamer blinked at him, totally confused. His muscular arm tugged her against his side.

"What? We're all pals here, right?" Fingers closed around her upper arm. She tensed under his touch.

The girls looked at each other in befuddlement.

"Y-Yeah, I guess…" Dreamer blushed. She had a feeling that most girls would be more than thrilled to have Gajeel touch them like this. He _was_ one of the more attractive, masculine men in the guild. And there was something warm and pleasant about his large hand on her skin. But she much preferred the chilly sensation of Macbeth's touch, and his lean muscles and chamomile scent… Her blush deepened, mostly because she knew he was on stage right now, likely watching this entire scene unfold.

And in fact, Macbeth was onstage, watching this entire scene unfold. He scowled at the sight of Gajeel's arm around Dreamer's petite shoulders, and her responsive blush.

"Hey, so anyway, I was meaning to ask…" Gajeel's other hand started to raise. It only got halfway toward Dreamer's free shoulder however, before his glove gave a metallic whirring sound and he suddenly punched himself in the face, hard enough to knock him off of his feet and instantly make his lip bleed.

"Gajeel, are you okay?" The girls gasped and rose to their feet in shock.

"What just happened?" Laki gaped at the sight of Gajeel staggering backward.

Gajeel stood up and wiped the blood off of his lip with a smirk. He looked back at Macbeth, who was glaring at him with all the fury of a murderer.

"Not interested, huh?" Gajeel grinned victoriously. Macbeth raised his hand again and Gajeel quickly jumped over the table toward the doors. "Hey, Dreamer." He sent her a wide grin. "Don't quit shakin' those tail feathers. I've never met a cat that could resist pouncing on his bird."

"A… what?" She cocked her head at the obscure analogy, body still frozen in place where he'd been wrapped around her.

"Do me a solid and don't tell shorty about this!" he yelled at the girls before dodging a flying stool.

"Are we missing something?" Lucy asked.

"Beats me."

Dreamer gazed at the stage and caught Macbeth looking at her intensely. So intensely that she felt a shiver of something like excitement, fear, or both go down her spine.

She had a pretty good idea what all of that was about. And the thought of Macbeth being jealous of Gajeel made butterflies flutter in her stomach, and electricity spark on her skin.


	55. Relax, Dreamer

**Chapter 55: Relax, Dreamer**

Hot sun. Hot sand. Hot tan lines.

A large group of Fairy Tail members were gathered on the beach for a day in the sun, including all of Team Derelict Heart. Why? Because Master Makarov had scheduled a mandatory relaxation day for Dreamer when he caught her moping in the kitchen with a half-eaten tub of ice cream. "Would you stop worrying about Resmond, young lady?!" He'd ordered a day at the beach and also confiscated her ice cream.

So now, being forced to relax, Dreamer stood with her feet in the cool salty water, gazing at the horizon. Behind her, Fairy Tail shenanigans were already in full swing.

Erik was lying in a beach chair under an umbrella, arms behind his head, eyes slanted in Kinana's direction. The young woman was wrapped tightly in an oversized beach towel, cheeks as red as a sunburn.

"Well?" he raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to get in the water or what?"

She fidgeted uncomfortably and looked at the ground. "I… Maybe I'll just go back to the guild…"

Erik sat up and stared harshly at her, amethyst eyes catching rays of sunlight. "Stop thinking that," he snapped. She cast her eyes down at the sand.

"I really wish you couldn't hear my thoughts sometimes…"

 _I can't be out here! This was a stupid idea! Letting the girls pick a bikini out for me… No one wants to see an overweight girl in a bikini… What will he think of me? There are so many beautiful girls out here. Skinnier than me. Prettier than me._

"I said cut it out," Erik snapped.

"Stop listening!" She put her blushing face in her hands.

"Look," he bared a fang, irritated. "You think I care what you look like? How many times do I have to tell you? It doesn't matter what body you have or what form you're in, you're still my Cubellios. That's all that matters to me."

She gasped, eyes sparkling with emotion.

 _That's nice, but… I want you to think I'm attractive in this body._

"You're seriously not getting the point." He sighed heavily. "Of course you're attractive to me, Kinana. You're. My. Cubellios."

She swallowed nervously, thoroughly embarrassed by this entire exchange. He closed his eyes and chuckled under his breath.

"What's so funny?" she asked, defensively clutching the towel closer. She really wished _she_ could read _his_ mind.

"Kind of reminds me of the time I couldn't find you anywhere in Zero's base. Turned out, you were hiding in the boiler room, embarrassed because you were shedding."

Even though she couldn't remember this, she still felt an uncomfortable twist in her stomach.

"I thought you were beautiful then, and I think you're beautiful now."

"Oh!"

These words hung in the humid air. Finally convinced, she nodded resolutely and took her towel off to reveal a sparkling green two-piece. He glanced at her and smirked.

"See. I don't know what you were worried about."

She giggled, all uncertainty gone. She grabbed his hand suddenly, pulling him from the chair. "Come on! Let's get in the water together!"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute! I don't even have sunscreen on and I don't need more of a tan!"

Closer to the water, Syllest was building a sand castle with Jezran. They'd already constructed a three-foot-tall identical model of the Excalibur Estate. It was quite silly, the sight of a little girl in a blue swimming dress, giggling as a tattoo riddled, much older thug placed a stick in the top of one of the towers.

Natsu, Piper, Gray, Elfman, and a battle-form Pantherlily were having a swimming race. Carla was tanning with a reflector on the beach, which was funny considering fur should be impossible to tan. A group of girls were chatting and applying sun screen to each other's backs, to include Lucy, Juvia, Cana, and Levy. A volley ball game was happening farther down the beach, and Mirajane and Erza were in a surfing competition. At the top of a sandy dune, Reedus was painting the beautiful scene.

"Hey, Beth!" Gajeel strode up to a cluster of umbrellas, where curled on a beach towel, in full clothing to include coat and boots and sunglasses, Macbeth was curled up in a ball—asleep. He didn't respond, so Gajeel chucked a seashell at his head. "You really gonna sleep all day?"

"I'm going to try," came the testy response.

"Come on, man! Get up and enjoy the sun! And the scenery…" There was a suggestive hint to his tone, as he glanced over at Levy in a striped swimsuit.

"No thanks. I'll burn." He tugged his coat further over his face.

"No way, I'll put sunscreen on you!" Gajeel held up a sunscreen container.

"Touch me and I'll murder you."

"Alright, fine." Gajeel turned toward the beach with his hands on his hips. "Hey! Dreamer! Get over here!"

Macbeth narrowed a red eye at Gajeel. "Don't."

Dreamer glanced over her shoulder to see Gajeel standing in black swim trunks, hands on his hips, shouting for her. A pile of black clothes marked Macbeth's presence beside him.

She started toward them.

"You know," Gajeel squatted next to Macbeth. "Levy said it's pretty unheard of for your girl to dress in anything revealing."

"That's because she was trying to hide the fact she's not Syllestra's mother." He yawned and pointedly did not respond to the "your girl" part of this phrase.

"Doesn't look like she's hiding anything now."

She was in a dark pink bikini that almost perfectly matched the shade of Macbeth's Fairy Tail mark, and which also accentuated the pink of her irises.

"Don't you have anything better to do than harass me, Gajee?" Macbeth taunted, officially burrowing his head under the coat, almost as if to hide.

"Nah."

"What's up?" Dreamer stood in front of them, head cocked to the side.

"Beth here needs some help applying sunscreen," Gajeel smirked widely.

Dreamer's cheeks caught color. "Ah… Macbeth?"

"Go away," he snapped.

"Hey, use your charm magic to persuade him to get off his lazy ass," Gajeel commanded.

"You know it doesn't work if he knows I'm using it," she sighed. "Just let him sleep, Gajeel."

"Yeah, whatever." Gajeel crossed his arms with a pout. "You're both boring as hell, you know that? I'm gonna get in on that race." With that, he charged across the sand and dove into the water to catch up with the swimmers.

Dreamer now stood awkwardly at Macbeth's feet. She cleared her throat. He made no effort to move. She released a quiet sigh and turned to leave, deciding to help Syllest and Pops with their sandcastle. But before she'd taken a step…

"Dream."

She paused and looked back over her shoulder at him. He sat up and stretched with a yawn. "I want to go back to the guild hall," he said, with the hint of a whine. "It's too hot out here." And bright. And sandy. And just about everything else he didn't like.

"You know, it would be less hot if you weren't dressed in all black and an overcoat." She rolled her eyes. "You can go back if you want. Master said I have to stay out here until lunch."

Instead of responding, he slid out of his coat. Then his boots. Then the fur scarf. Then unclasped his belt.

"What are you doing?" she swallowed dryly, eyes naturally drawn to the bare skin of his stomach.

"Cooling off," he said simply. He tossed the belt, unbuttoned his pants. Dreamer chewed her lip, not sure where exactly she should be looking right now. She opted for watching the girls chat on their beach blanket, though she occasionally looked back at Macbeth undressing.

Finally, he was unclad but for his dream catcher necklace and a pair of white swim trunks. Which meant he'd planned on getting in the water all along.

She _tried_ not to look at him too closely. _Tried._ But she'd never seen Macbeth in anything less than a halter top and pants. Never seen him this exposed. Now, her eyes flitted over the lean muscles of his torso.

"What's wrong, Dream?" A smirk touched his lips. "You look a little red. Are you getting a sunburn?"

"N-No, I'm fine!" Her eyelashes fluttered and she forced herself to look away. The cruel gleam in his teeth told her that he didn't buy it for a second. He shrugged and laid back down on the beach towel on his stomach. "You got undressed just to go back to sleep?"

"Sunscreen," he said casually, pointing to the bottle Gajeel had left.

"…Wait, you're serious?" She stood rooted to the spot, stomach alive with butterflies.

"What's wrong, Dream?" his voice was a teasing drawl. "Scared?"

"No, of course not!" She huffed indignantly and sat on her knees at his side, snatching up the bottle. "I'm just surprised, that's all." She slathered sunscreen in her hands and tried to sound confident. "You used to hate being touched."

"I can make a special exception for you, sweet Dream."

She inhaled sharply, and purposely averted her eyes while she pressed her palms against the taut muscles of his back. "Don't tease me," she said quietly. Her mind wandered to the night in the garden. Knees touching. Her hand on his bare stomach. His lips, so close… The beach suddenly felt a hundred times hotter.

She rubbed the sunscreen into his skin and did her absolute best not to let her fingers linger. She absently thought about how many people thought he looked girly. Clearly they'd never felt the solid strength of his muscles. For a moment, she thought he was perfectly masculine.

"There." She sat back on her haunches and swallowed dryly once more. He sat up and stretched, only accenting his muscles even more.

"Hm. Shame. I could fall asleep with you touching me."

"D-Don't say things like that!" She crossed her arms and averted her gaze. She could feel his red stare piercing her bare skin, so she looked back at him. He was propped up, eyes flicking over her skin and fixing themselves on her bikini clad chest, which was plumped up by her crossed arms. "H-Hey!" She covered her breasts instinctively. "Could you be any less obvious when you stare at my boobs?!"

He smirked and gave a nonchalant shrug, clearly unremorseful.

Her blush deepened. She gave a "hmph" and turned her back on him, drawing her knees to her chest and pouting like a child. "You're such a jerk…"

"You knew that already," he stated.

"Why do you do that?" She buried her face in her knees.

"Do what?" He was grinning ear to ear. "Torment you?"

"You know, most people would call it 'teasing' or 'flirting!' Why does everything have to be about torture with you, geez?!" And… _was_ he flirting? She felt like he had been lately, but… It was impossible to tell with him.

"I love your reactions," he answered, drawing closer to her. She bundled herself up tighter but he leaned forward and breathed against the skin of her neck. His breath was cool on her sunburnt skin. "You're so entertaining."

"Well I wish you'd stop!" His breath made her skin prickle.

"Do you really?" His voice drawled in mocking disbelief. He moved closer and put his hands on her shoulders to turn her toward him. She instinctively bent to his will and looked at him. The faint smirk, the devious eyes.

"I…" She didn't know what to say or do. He really _was_ tormenting her. Ever since they'd almost kissed… No, before that. Asking her to stay in his bed. Wrapping his arms around her. The teasing, the grazing of her skin. The way he'd lower his head to her neck to whisper some kind of unholy threat, which for some reason always made her insides burn with pleasant flame. She'd already admitted to herself how she felt about him, but she didn't know if he felt the same. Honestly, she was afraid to know. What if he really was just teasing her for kicks? What if she was just a game to him? A toy?

The thought hurt. She wanted to be more than that to Macbeth. More than a toy or game. More than a teammate. She wanted…

"Dream…" His low voice brought her back to the present. His eyes bore into hers. He reached up and brushed her cheek with his thumb. His touch jolted her. His eyes wandered down to her chest, then up to her chin, her eyes, her lips… Consuming crimson. Sparkling rubies. He lifted a finger and gestured for her to come closer.

She forgot they were at the beach. She forgot about all the Fairy Tail members around them. She couldn't hear the background noise anymore. All she heard was the pounding of her own heart. The only thing she was aware of was Macbeth's swallowing gaze. She was weak to his command, and leaned forward to obey. A faint smirk painted his lips. He threaded his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back, just a bit. His hand slid down to her shoulder—the other cupped her jaw.

"M-Macbeth?" Her skin felt like it was boiling. They were sharing breaths—so close… She'd wanted this moment for so long… Stayed up at night thinking of his parted lips, his vortex eyes gleaming only for her…

His thumb stroked her cheek—his fingertips danced on her collarbone—his nails tickled her scalp.

Wait… If one hand was on her shoulder and the other on her cheek, then… What was in her hair?

She let out an ear piercing screech and jumped up off the towel, shaking her hair. She wildly threw her hands through her hair and screamed again when something latched onto her finger. In another second she was trying desperately to flick a crab off of her hand, where it had pinched on for dear life. Meanwhile, Macbeth was literally rolling on the sand laughing so hard that he was crying.

"GET IT OFF!" She screamed and flailed like a fish until the crab had had enough and finally soared through the sky and dove back into the sea. Dreamer stood panting for breath, hair completely disheveled, teeth gritted hard enough to crack. "YOU BASTARD!" This outburst caused a few curious gazes to turn their way.

Macbeth couldn't breathe or speak for laughing so hard.

"I hate you! I'm going to go sit with the girls. Away from YOU!" She picked up her towel and huffed, stomping through the sand. She paused suddenly, tears welling in her eyes. "I thought you were really going to kiss me that time."

His laughter died at once. She sniffled slightly and started to walk again, the chill of rejection making her suddenly feel cold, despite the setting. She didn't want to be anywhere near him anymore.

"…Do you want me to?" His voice called after her, low and thoughtful.

Her heart caught in her throat and she blushed. "N-No! I just want you to leave me alone!" She made to run but something tugged her back. It took her a moment to realize he was using his magic to tug her towel back toward him. "Let go, Macbeth!"

She looked at him and his eyes were big and desperate. "Come back," he whined like a child, pouting slightly.

"No! You can't trick me with your stupid kitty cat eyes, okay? Just leave me alone!" She pulled against the towel.

His expression turned devious. "Come back." It was a command this time, deep and threatening. "There are other strings I can pull to bring you back to me."

Her bikini top straps seemed to loosen slightly.

She gasped and instinctively covered herself, with a nervous glance at everyone else on the beach. "Okay! Okay!" She blushed ferociously and started back toward him.

She sat back down beside him but her heart was still heavy. She sighed and willed herself not to cry in front of him. How could she be so stupid? She actually expected him to kiss her?

"Dreamer." He called her attention to him. She looked and got caught yet again in his red eyes, which looked like embers in a fire. There was no smirk on his face now. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

She averted her gaze and felt the tears prick again. "I… I don't know…" She cleared her throat. "I guess it depends on, you know… how you feel about me." Was this really happening? Was she talking feelings with Macbeth right now? The sun must have fried her brains…

"You don't already know?" His stare could burn holes through her, just like real embers.

"No. I try not to read your emotions, okay?" She sighed heavily. "I just… What am I to you, Macbeth?" She looked at him again. She had to know… _Am I just a game to you? Or…_

His response was without words. He reached for her again but she swatted him back.

"Hands!" She demanded.

He laughed and showed that his hands were empty of any pinching sea creatures. She nodded and went back to feeling embarrassed and exposed. And he went back to reaching for her. His hands pressed on her shoulders, pushing her down on the sand. Her breath hitched and she swallowed nervously when he hovered over her, red eyes staring down.

Those eyes flickered back and forth between hers. Down along her chin and neck, collarbone and breasts. Back up to her lips.

"M-Macbeth, people will see us…" It was an excuse. She didn't care if the whole world saw, if he really did feel the same way about her. That was all that mattered, but she was afraid to admit that.

He lowered his head and snuggled his hair against hers, breath on her ear. "What are you to me?" His voice was a tremble. A whisper. "You're my sweet dream."

His words elicited an unwarranted sigh from the base of her throat. She was as red as possible, all the blood rushing to the surface of her skin.

"Oh, Dream…" Husky. Heavy. He pulled his head back and stared at her again. One of his hands found her bare side and stroked the skin there, sending shudders down her spine. Then, he began to lower his face toward hers, closing the distance.

She parted her lips in expectation. Desire. _Please, kiss me this time. Please, oh Mavis, let him kiss me this time!_

The couple had garnered the attention of some of the other members. In the water, Pantherlily had reverted to his chibi form. "They seem to have gotten close."

Gajeel followed his gaze and smirked widely at the sight of a shirtless Macbeth drawing his mouth toward Dreamer's. "Heh. That's my Beth. It's about damn time."

"I take that to mean you will be kissing Ms. McGarden soon?" Pantherlily asked, innocently.

"What?! Shut up, Lily, you don't know what you're talking about!"

Back under the umbrella...

"Macbeth, I…" Dreamer whispered. This was it…

Suddenly, his finger was on her lips. She blinked in surprise. His red eyes sparkled mischievously, but they also brimmed with passion. Then, with his own finger still in the way of a full kiss—a _real_ kiss, he pressed his lips against hers. He was kissing her... No, he was kissing his own finger, millimeters from her lips.

It was so _unfair._

He leaned back after a long moment, a black smirk painted on his lips. "That's all for now, sweet Dream."

"You're a demon from hell," she said darkly.

"That's the best compliment you've ever given me."

She kneed him in the stomach and rolled him off of her so she could stand up defiantly. "Shrivel in the sun," she ordered.

"And _I'm_ the sadistic one," he taunted.

She crossed her arms over her chest angrily. Of course he'd just teased her again, but… The look in his eyes… She felt high and giddy and tingly all over. She had a prophetic sense that it wouldn't be long before she got a _real_ kiss from him. Maybe that time, she'd be the one to pull away, just to see how he liked it.

She wasn't sure how she knew, but she was almost certain now… Macbeth felt _something_ for her. She could sense it in the air around him when he'd been looking down at her. His emotions were always confusing to detect, but there was no denying the intensity that had emanated from him.

He didn't try to stop her when she walked away this time. Instead, he watched her go before laying back down on the beach towel and staring up at the umbrella over him. There was a bitter frown on his face. He closed his eyes and remembered his conversation with Gajeel.

 _I'm part of the light?_

"Ooooh, girl, what was that about?" Levy cooed as soon as Dreamer had reached them.

"Nothing," she said quickly before sitting with the girls.

"Didn't look like nothing," Cana said, with a chug from some mixed drink in a half of a coconut.

Dreamer looked over her shoulder at Macbeth's form lying on the beach.

"Maybe, it was… _something_."


	56. The Invitation

**Chapter 56: The Invitation**

Erza turned the lock on the door. She stood in Master Makarov's office, the small guild master sitting cross-legged on the chair in front of her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her head tilted forward, scarlet bangs falling to shade her eyes.

Makarov waited patiently, and finally, she began to speak.

She gave him the full report. Warren's findings—her own personal interrogations of the people involved. He listened with a grim expression. When she was finished, she stood with her arms crossed across her breast-plate, looking expectantly at the master.

"You are sure of this?" His frown lines were more exaggerated than usual.

"Yes, master."

"I see." He stroked his mustache in thought. "If what you say is true… he'll attack with an entire army."

"That is my fear," she nodded, seriously. "All evidence suggests that the King of Diamonds intends to attack Magnolia in full force."

"And you have not informed any of Team Derelict Heart of your findings?"

"No, Master. I thought it wise to report to you first."

Makarov crossed his arms and tilted his head as he thought. "If Resmond wants to storm Magnolia, let him. Fairy Tail will be waiting."

She nodded, the determination shining in her eyes.

"However." He released a long breath. "I don't want Dreamer or Syllestra here when that happens. My first priority is to protect them."

"I understand." Erza agreed. "But where will you send them without setting off their suspicions?"

He furrowed his brow and thought deeper. Then, his eyelids shot open as the idea struck him.

"Get me a communication lacrima at once. I have a call to make."

* * *

"Wait, really?"

It was a brisk morning and, as usual, Team Derelict Heart was gathered on the patio drinking tea in front of the guild café. Well, minus Macbeth, who was serving cakes behind the counter.

Jezran nodded. He reached inside of his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope. The wax seal was stamped with an unmistakable symbol. The same symbol Jezran had tattooed on his chest. The Excalibur crest.

"I didn't realize it was that time already." Dreamer blinked and took the envelope from him.

"That is because the festivities usually occur over the holidays, dear me." Jezran sipped from his tea cup in a refined manner. "For some reason, it has been moved up this year."

"One of you's wanna tell me what you're talking about?"

Piper drummed his fingers on the table in irritation. He wasn't a fan of being left out of the loop.

"Oh, that's right." Dreamer looked up from the letter she was reading. "I guess you wouldn't know, would you?"

"Know what?!"

She looked back down at the parchment. The slick calligraphy and official stamped paper. The signature on the bottom.

"Every five years, the Excalibur Family hosts a reunion. It's like a big, week-long party." She glanced at Jezran. "I've only been once, right after Pops and I met."

"So, what's that? Like a formal invitation?" Piper nodded in the direction of the letter. Dreamer nodded in response.

"This letter is addressed to 'Jezran Desmond Excalibur, eldest son of the Excalibur Family Royal Line, and the members of his family; which by extension are members of the Excalibur Family.'"

She read the rest of the letter, which eloquently invited them to stay at the estate for the week of the Ball and surrounding activities.

"'With Profound Loyalty and Respect, Signed Arturus Gallavantia Excalibur.'"

She frowned at the letter before folding it back up and returning it to the envelope. "Pops, this is in ten days."

Jezran nodded slowly, then took another sip from his tea. "It is surprisingly short notice, is it not? Dear me."

"We can't go," she said, handing the letter back to him. "We have to deal with the Res… We have _other_ things to deal with."

Jezran slid the letter back into his suit jacket. He sat his tea cup down on its saucer, carefully positioning it so that it sat perfectly in the center of the little plate. Then, he leaned back, posture upright, and folded his hands on the table in front of him. He met Dreamer's gaze with a steady, resolute expression.

"Dearest Dreamer," he spoke clearly and slowly. His tone made her stomach churn. It was very rare that Jezran used _that_ voice. "We cannot refuse an invitation from the Excalibur Family."

She swallowed uncomfortably, then sipped from her own tea cup. Her tea was getting cold.

Piper gritted his teeth and sighed. "He's right, Dreamy. We really don't wanna piss off the Pergrande mafia."

In a flash, Jezran jabbed two fingers into a pressure point on Piper's wrist.

"OW! WHAT THE HELL, POPS?!" Piper almost fell out of his seat with the responsive jerk.

"Do not refer to my Family as a mafia, dear me." Jezran said this with the most charming mustached smile.

"My bad, geez!" Piper flicked his hand repeatedly, to get rid of the painful tingles.

Dreamer stared angrily at her lap. "It's too much of a coincidence…" she spoke quietly. "It doesn't make sense that they would invite us right when all of this is going on. Pops, it's not right!" She petitioned him, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"I agree that it is suspicious," Jezran said. "In fact, there's a 79.3% chance that this invitation is in direct response to the King of Diamonds incidents. I find it likely that the Family has gotten wind of our situation, dear me, and intends to offer a hand on the matter; which is not such a detestable thing, dear me. Would it not be a comfort to have the alliance of the Family as we face the man?"

Dreamer chewed her lip. "You know it's not that simple, Pops. It never is. If we get their help, we'll owe them."

Jezran smiled, mysteriously. "All things come at a price, dear Dreamer."

"Ten days…" she sighed heavily. "Is it just going to be the three of us?"

Jezran shook his head. "The after-address states us by name, dear me. 'One Jezran Desmond Excalibur, Dreamer Cumula, Syllestra Raine Cumula, Piper Michelle Overon, and Macbeth [last name unknown].'"

"How do they even know about Macbeth?" she gaped.

"How do they knows my middle name?!" Piper was red in the cheeks.

"Your middle name is Michelle?"

"I was named after my aunt, a'right?! Drop it!"

Dreamer leaned back and looked at the café. The regular line of people stood ordering coffee, tea, and Macbeth's cakes. Kinana was serving drinks while Macbeth drizzled caramel onto his newest creation. She didn't even want to know what it was.

As if he could feel her eyes on him, he glanced up at her. Their eyes met and his lips cracked into a smirk. This motion made her blush immediately and look away.

"I'm gonna be sick," Piper groaned dramatically. "Get a room, will you's?"

"Piper!" She chucked a sugar packet at him.

"Dear Dreamer," Jezran said, a bit of a mischievous smile playing under his mustache. "Do not forget, your favorite event will be hosted, and Macbeth will be there for it, dear me."

She flushed even more, sparks lighting in her stomach.

"Favorite event?" Piper raised an eyebrow.

"The Excalibur Ball," Jezran explained. "If I recall, this was Dreamer's most endeared part of the festivities."

"A ball? You's mean we gotta dress up for all this? Like formal-wear?"

"Yes, of course."

"Pops, I ain't worn a formal nothing in my whole damn life."

"I can help with that, dear me."

"Forget it, I ain't going!" The bluenette crossed his arms over his bare chest and puffed his cheeks in a pout.

"Did I forget to mention the black-jack tournament?" Jezran tipped his head. Piper froze and lifted one eyebrow.

"What you's say?"

"It seems you are unaware that the Excalibur Estate hosts the largest casino in all of Pergrande, dear me."

Piper cracked the biggest smile Dreamer had ever seen. "Why didn't you's say so, Pops?! I'll go pack my bags now!"

Jezran chuckled and Dreamer laughed. She was still a bit flustered however, at the thought of going to the ball with… _him._

She risked another look in his direction. She smiled at the adorable sight of Macbeth concentrating on the cake in front of him. Eyes narrowed, lips pinched together, flour all over his apron and black clothes. She wondered what he would look like in formal-wear… She wondered if he could dance. Most of all, she wondered what expression might cross his face when he saw her in a ball gown…

"Earth to Dreamy," Piper snapped his fingers. "Quit fantasizing, will you's? You're worse than Juvia."

She chucked three more sugar packets at him.

"I guess we have no choice but to attend…" she sighed. But Jezran was right, it wouldn't be that bad. In fact, it might be fun. It might be the relaxation Master had been ordering Dreamer to get lately. And maybe… just maybe…

She'd get a _real_ kiss from Macbeth.

* * *

A week later…

A group of seven people was waiting to board the train for Pergrande. There was Jezran, standing as still as a statue, hands folded neatly behind his back, mustache carefully waxed and pointed for their arrival. Behind him, dreamer was pacing and chewing on a thumbnail, her mind fraught with endless worry. Macbeth watched her sleepily from his spot on his magic carpet. Piper was playing hide and seek with Syllest behind station pillars. And glowering at each other a few feet behind Macbeth, were two dragon-slayers.

"What's his favorite color?" Gajeel asked, eyes narrowed harshly at the red-head.

"Come on, that's too easy." Erik scoffed. "It's black."

"Ha!" Gajeel jeered at him. "Wrong! It _used_ to be black, but since he's been attached to Debbie's hip, it's pink!"

Dreamer stopped in her tracks, both because of the butchering of her name and the insinuation of Macbeth being obsessed with her.

"Why are you two even here?!" she snapped. "I don't remember your names being on the invitation."

"If Beth is goin,' I'm goin.'" Gajeel said, with all the loyalty of a lover.

"It has nothing to do with the fact that Miss McGarden will be out of town for the next ten days," Pantherlily added helpfully, from where he was sitting next to Macbeth on the magic carpet. Macbeth mumbled in his sleep and tugged the cat against his chest.

"It has nothing to do with that pipsqueak!" Gajeel shouted, a little too forcefully.

"What about you, Erik?" Dreamer crossed her arms over her chest. "Wouldn't you rather stay at the guild with Kinana?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "To be honest, I'm not too keen on hanging around your guild hall without Midnight, if I can help it." He put his hands in his pockets.

"Pussy," Gajeel jabbed.

Erik scowled angrily. "Watch it," he hissed darkly. "If you push me too far, I'll tell that 'pipsqueak' about all the indecent thoughts you have about her."

Gajeel's face went as red as a stoplight. He huffed and folded his arms over his chest, turned away from the other man. Dreamer let out an exasperated sigh. She wondered if this was how Lucy felt all the time with Natsu and Gray always at each other's throats. She had a twinge of empathy for the poor girl.

Finally, the train doors opened.

The seven of them were ushered in single-file line up the stairs. Dreamer got on last, with one final look at Magnolia behind her. There was a sharp pain in her chest. It was as if, for some reason, a voice in her head was screaming… _Don't get on that train, Dreamer!_ A deep sense of foreboding that escaped reason. And for the briefest instant, she _almost_ called her friends back. She _almost_ grabbed Syllest by the wrist and pulled her off the train and ran for the Fairy Tail guild hall.

Almost.

Instead, she turned her back and let the train doors close behind her.

A choice she would regret for years to come.


	57. Arturus

**Chapter 57: Arturus**

The journey to Pergrande could not be completed in one day. They had to pass through the countries of Bosco, Stella, and Iceberg just to reach the border of the massive country. It was a three-day trip, most of which was done on train, though there were times they were forced to get from one station to another via magi-vehicle or carriage.

They got a detailed description of every country they passed through from Jezran, who seemed to quite like showing off the gargantuan store of information he kept in his head. He had the most knowledge about Pergrande itself, of course, since it was his home country. And the way he talked about it was with a tone of awe and nostalgia.

"Many refer to it as the Land of Dreams," he said, at one point, with glimmering brown eyes. "And the diverse inhabitants, of which there are about 32 million, all live there with the desire to chase their dreams, dear me. My family strives to help the average citizen achieve this."

His rambling was fine, the first day. But by the third day, the older man was doing nothing but telling long and overly-detailed accounts about his many adventures in the country. Macbeth had already slept so much, that he wasn't even tired anymore, and had to listen in painful boredom. Syllestra was more restless than ever before, and complained every five minutes about one thing or another—which was to be expected of a seven year-old. Not so much of adult dragon-slayers.

"This is my worst nightmare," Gajeel groaned, with a bucket near his head. "Three days of… ugh… motion."

Erik was no better for wear. He was trembling violently, with his own bucket. "If Kinana were a snake again, I could just fly here…" He groaned in agony.

"Drink water, you two," Dreamer commanded. "You need to stay hydrated."

"It's too bad Mac ain't a dragon slayer," Piper noted, as he played Go-Fish with Syllest. "It'd be nice to see him suffering for three days straight."

Macbeth said nothing, but pointedly looked at him while stretching out to lay on Dreamer's lap. Piper's eyebrow twitched.

Dreamer blushed but did not push him away.

"Lily…" Macbeth sleepily called for the Exceed, who was sitting next to Gajeel's hunched form.

"No," Pantherlily said as he crossed his paws over his chest.

"Get over here," Macbeth demanded.

"I'm not your pillow." His kitty ear flicked in annoyance. "And it is insulting to be treated as such. I am a noble warrior, not some stuffed toy."

Macbeth gave the most dramatic sigh Dreamer had ever heard. She giggled. It still amazed her that a fearsome demon of darkness could be reduced to a whiny child like this.

At long last, when they were officially going stir crazy from being in the same quarters for three days straight, and Erik and Gajeel were contemplating laying down on the train tracks, and Jezran had actually run out of stories… they finally reached their destination.

"Thank you for your services, dear me," Jezran nodded politely at the carriage driver who dropped them off in front of the estate.

"I'm walking back," Gajeel and Erik said simultaneously.

"That would probably take you months," Dreamer rolled her eyes.

"Worth it."

* * *

The Excalibur Estate loomed before them. It was practically its own city, with bustling streets and elegant buildings. At its center was a grand castle, golden with silver spires, etched with images of swords and shields. This was where they headed, though not before stopping to change into more appropriate attire for meeting with Arturus Gallavantia Excalibur…

"Do be on your best behavior, dear me," Jezran said with a forced smile, and a glance at the boys in the group. "Unless you would like to be cast into the ditch surrounding the castle."

It was clear that he was not joking.

* * *

The room was large, with an arched ceiling and marble pillars. It was large, but also empty of all but a risen throne, upon which sat the head of the Excalibur Family and Jezran's father.

His age was apparent. Pale skin and heavy wrinkles—an oversized nose and ears. Completely white hair that hung to his shoulders. A white mustache and beard. Unlike with Jezran, whose creases suggested a man who had smiled often in life, the lines on this man's face suggested he had spent much of his life scowling. His eyes were a cold gray, set behind round glasses. His dignified pose and the scar that cut across his right cheek suggested that he was not a man to be trifled with.

The throne he sat in, and the general atmosphere of the castle made it appear as though he should be a king, but instead of a crown and royal robe, he wore a perfectly pressed suit and top-hat. The other striking feature was the fact that both of his hands were littered with golden rings on all fingers, along with black ink on his knuckles.

Jezran stepped forward and kneeled before his father. He took one of those jewelry adorned hands and kissed a crested ring he wore. "With all respect, Sir."

Behind him, the rest of the troupe were standing as still as statues. Dreamer, in a sleek, golden dress. Syllestra, in a poofy white dress. And the boys, all in suits and ties.

Gajeel and Erik looked totally at home in the get-up. Especially Gajeel, who was the most relaxed of all of them, hands thrust into his pockets. Macbeth and Piper, on the other hand, looked like they would rather die than be in suits. Piper had been tugging at his tie ever since Jezran put it on him, and Macbeth just _looked_ pissed.

Then there was Syllest, who was hiding behind Dreamer's leg, staring fearfully at the man on the throne.

"My son!" Arturus stood and gave the same mustached smile that Jezran also claimed. He threw his arms around Jezran and patted him hard on the back. "My boy, I have missed you!"

"And I you, dear me." Jezran hugged him back.

Arturus held his arms out wide and looked at the rest of them. "Ah! And dearest Dreamer and Syllestra! Come give your grandfather a hug!"

Dreamer nodded at Syllest to signal it was okay, before approaching tentatively. Arturus embraced her and placed a kiss on each of her cheeks.

"Granddaughter, look at you," he brushed a cream strand behind her ear. "You were but a child when I saw you last! Now you are a woman!"

"It's nice to see you again, Sir." She bowed her head politely.

"Now, now, no need for formalities." He patted her on the head, then looked down at Syllestra, who was staring wide-eyed at him.

"Ah! Sweet Syllestra," he kneeled down and opened his arms again. "How you have grown. Please, give your Grammpy a hug!"

Syllestra looked at Dreamer and Jezran, who both nodded. She cracked a giant grin and jumped into the old man's arms.

"You're my Grammpy?! Are you really my Grammpy, or are you just pretend my Grammpy like Pops is pretend my Grandpa? What's a Grammpy? It sounds like Grumpy. You look kind of grumpy, but you have a nice smile."

"Syllest!" Dreamer hushed her, in horror.

Arturus let out a deep-bellied laugh. "Such a lively young thing! Syllest, would you like a present?"

"A present?!" she jumped up and down. "Yes, please!"

Arturus whistled and the doors opened. A servant walked in with… a pony-sized live unicorn.

Dreamer sweat-dropped.

"WOW! MY OWN PET!" Syllestra ran to the creature and was hoisted onto a harness. "Mom won't let me have pets because 'cats scratch and dogs bite,'" she mimicked Dreamer's voice. "Ha!" She stuck her tongue out at Dreamer. "You never said anything about unicorns!"

The small creature began to slowly trot through the room.

Arturus stood up and finally looked at the rest of the party. His smile became a thin line, as if he didn't quite trust them.

"You must be Piper Michelle Overon," he looked at the bluenette, who blushed fiercely at the use of his middle name. Again.

"Uh…" he cleared his throat. "Yeah. I mean, yes… Sir."

Arturus walked forward to shake his hand. His grip was incredibly firm and deliberate. "If you call yourself one of Dreamer's protectors, then you are welcome in this Family."

Piper clenched his fingers and winced when the old man finally let go.

"And you…" He now stood in front of Macbeth. He did not reach to shake his hand. He did not smile. His gray eyes were set hard on Macbeth's red ones. "You are he."

Macbeth was still, though his pupils retracted slightly in fear. "My name's Macbeth."

"I know who you are." Arturus continued to stare. "You are the man who protected Syllestra on the rooftops in Rose Garden, and who has sworn fealty to Dreamer." He finally smiled and took Macbeth's hand. "Welcome."

Macbeth sighed in relief when he let go.

"Sworn fealty," Piper muttered under his breath. "Psh."

"And who might the rest of you be?"

"I'm Beth's best friend!" Gajeel slapped a hand on Macbeth's back, who winced in annoyance.

"Erik," Erik said simply.

"And I am Pantherlily." The Exceed bowed low. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Sir."

"An exceed! Excellent! We've a few of your kind in our ranks."

"I'm sure they are proud to be of service."

Arturus clasped his hands together. "There! We have all been introduced. Now, I hope you will all join us for dinner tonight! Please, do enjoy your stay! Beuford will present you a list of the week's activities as well as escort you to your rooms."

A servant led them away, by holding the reins of Syllestra's unicorn and leading it into the hall.

"You see, Dreamer," Jezran said quietly as they walked, "this stay will be a good one, dear me. My father is in a pleasant mood."

She nodded, though she couldn't shake a strange sense of foreboding in her gut. She couldn't place it, but… She shook her head. It was probably just that she'd been so stressed out lately. She really _did_ need to relax.

"Here are your rooms," Beuford said. "There are only five, as we were not expecting the extra company." He looked accusingly at Gajeel and Erik.

"Piper and I can share a room," Macbeth said, with a wicked smirk.

"Not on your life, bubs! I get my own damn room this week!"

"Then I'll share Dream's room." Red eyes narrowed in her direction.

"The hell you will!"

"You can room with me, buddy," Gajeel clasped Macbeth's shoulder. Macbeth sighed in obvious annoyance.

"Hmph… Only if Pantherlily sleeps in my bed," the dual-haired mage looked at the cat with almost a predatory gleam.

"Not on your life," Lily snapped.

"Come on, Lily, take one for the team!" Gajeel scooped him up and handed him to Macbeth.

"Gajeel!" Lily's eyes showed deep betrayal.

Erik was already walking into his own room.

"Syllest and I will share," Dreamer said.

"Don't forget Arnold!" Syllest squealed.

"Arnold?"

"My unicorn!" She kicked the creature's flanks and led it into the bedroom. Dreamer face-palmed.

"I will be right next door, dear Dreamer," Jezran bowed.

She nodded thankfully and started to follow Syllest into the room, but not before one last glance in Macbeth's direction. As expected, his blood-red eyes were fixed on her. She blushed and waved. "See you at dinner…"

He said nothing, just stared as she walked inside.

Finally, he went into the room with Gajeel and Pantherlily, but before anyone could make themselves comfortable, Erik opened the door connecting their rooms and stepped inside. He leaned against the wall, eyes closed.

"What did you hear?" Macbeth asked, knowing him well enough to predict ahead.

The room was silent for a long moment. Gajeel listened as well, arms folded over his chest, as Erik began to speak.

"It's not a coincidence we're here," the poison-slayer said. "Your master contacted the mob head honcho and negotiated with him to have the festivities moved up."

"The old man made a deal with the Excalibur family?" Gajeel asked, eyes widening slightly.

"Why?" Macbeth asked, seriously.

"To get the girls out of town," her ran a hand through his red hair. "Because Resmond is launching a full-scale attack on Magnolia."

They were silent. They could hear Syllestra giggling through the wall next door, and Dreamer chiding her for something.

"Damn," Gajeel scowled in frustration. "The old man tricked us. There's no way in hell we could get back in time to be a part of the fight."

"Seems like that's the case." Erik shrugged.

"Good."

The two dragon-slayers and an exceed all looked at Macbeth in shock. He was looking at the wall, where the girls' voices continued to sound, like the low murmur of music.

"As long as they're safe."

Erik smirked lightly, giving a low chuckle. "You really have changed, Midnight."

"Love does that to a person," Pantherlily commented. "Or so I have heard."

"Feh," Macbeth looked away from the wall. "I don't love them." He sat with his back against the wall and closed his eyes, listening to their soft voices wade over him.

Gajeel shared a look with Erik and they both smirked.

He wasn't fooling anyone.


	58. The Excalibur Ball

**Chapter 58: The Excalibur Ball**

It was the fourth night of the Excalibur Family Reunion. The festivities had been non-stop. From the croquet tournament, to horseback riding, to the black-jack tournament, to the knighting ceremony where Jezran's great-nephew-twice-removed was knighted for his contributions to the family in the past five years (Dreamer still didn't know exactly what contributions the man had made, but it all seemed pretty shady). Parties, great feasts, champagne, a magic tournament, a cage-fighting tournament, gambling and betting (they _were_ a mob, after all, fancy or not).

The group was having so much fun, that the Resmond issue seemed far away, like something that occurred in a different world—another time. Macbeth, Gajeel, and Erik decided not to tell Dreamer about what Erik had overheard. There was no point, after all. It would just cause needless anxiety on her part, and no one wanted to deal with that.

Piper kept busy at the casino—smoking cigarettes and killing at the games. He had collected an impressive pile of crowns until the blackjack tournament. He pushed his luck just a little too far in that last round, and lost more than half of his winnings. But it didn't seem to be getting him too down. "Hey, I still won some'tin, didn't I? And shit, I ain't had this much fun in years!"

Gajeel was more interested in participating in the cage-fights and magic tournament. He was slaughtering the competition in the cage-fights until he was disqualified for punching someone with an iron rod. Pantherlily participated too, and made it to the final round before his battle-form wore out at the last moment.

Erik spent most the time walking on his own and exercising. It turned out that the poison-slayer enjoyed working out. He said it "makes it easier to tune out the noise." And apparently, he used to jog with Sawyer when they were younger, though he was never a match for the other boy.

Macbeth slept a lot, of course. He refused to compete in any of the games, and spent much of the time looking bored. Dreamer suspected he had been secretly playing tricks on people to entertain himself. She got that impression when she caught him smirking at a man sprawled out on the ground, who could not figure out how his shoes got laced to each other. When she looked at Macbeth, he'd quickly shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away. And it hardly seemed coincidence that everywhere he went, little accidents seemed to follow. She would have said something, but the tricks were mostly harmless, and he seemed to be having fun, so…

As for her and Syllestra, they spent most of their time with Jezran as he reunited with family members that came from all four corners of the world. It was astounding to see the older man in this setting. He garnered respect from everyone he spoke to. Then there was his younger brother, Terrence, whom he'd given the rights to the throne. Dreamer expected there to be tension between the two of them, but on the contrary, they were so happy to see one another that they were attached at the hip nearly constantly. It was clear that Jezran did not regret his choice to become Dreamer's guardian in exchange for the throne—a fact that made Dreamer's heart swell with joy.

Syllestra got to go horseback riding, which made her entire week. She also got to play with several other children her age, and was convinced that they were all her brothers and sisters.

All in all, the week was exactly what Dreamer needed. She felt loved, safe, and relaxed for the first time in months. She had long forgotten the strange sense of foreboding she'd had on their first night here. Now, she was swimming in the high of being surrounded by family, of being hundreds of miles away from her problems.

And tonight… Tonight was the night of the Excalibur Ball.

She'd never been so nervous. She could hardly stomach breakfast or lunch. She was giddy and on edge, jumpy and jittery. As if that wasn't bad enough, every time she looked at Macbeth throughout the day, her hands would begin to feel sweaty and the room would begin to feel too warm.

 _What's wrong with me?_ The question she asked herself over and over, all day long.

She meant to ask Macbeth if he would be attending the ball. But every time she was with him and had the opportunity, her mouth would go completely dry and the words would lodge in her throat.

 _This is so silly_ , she thought. _Why do I feel like this?_

She knew exactly why.

She went through the day with fluttering knots in her stomach, until it was time to get ready for the ball, about two hours beforehand. Servants helped her pick out dresses for herself and Syllestra, and then set to work beautifying them fully.

The time had finally come, and both girls marveled at their reflections in the mirror.

"Mommy, look!" Syllest twirled. "I'm a princess!"

The child wore a graceful gown with a poofy skirt and sleeves. It had a high, frilled collar, with buttons that trailed down to a lace-fringed corset. The corset was a deep shade of blue, lined with white lace and adorned with a matching bow on the chest. The skirt began at the bottom of the corset. It was lined with vertical rows of frills that flowed down into the hem, which hung with a trail of bows that circled around the bottom of the skirt. The lacy underskirt brushed her calves, and she wore black, sparkling flats that matched her hair. Her charcoal hair was in a half up-do, lightly curled and held back with a blue bow that matched the dress's corset.

"You _are_ a princess, Syllest." She smiled at the beautiful child, and could not help the passing thought, _Rosy would think so too._

"Mom," Syllest stopped in mid-twirl and looked up at Dreamer with her massive, pink eyes. "You look like an angel."

Dreamer swallowed a lump in her throat and looked at her own reflection.

Her gown was brilliant, dazzling gold, threaded with real white roses. A corset plumped her cleavage, her dress forming a low half-moon on the curve of her breasts. A pink rose stone, the same color as her eyes, rested at the top of her cleavage on a gold necklace hanging from a lace choker. Dangling earrings, pink, jewel-encrusted heels. Her hair was too short to put up completely, but it had been curled and adorned with a golden hairband, with a single cream braid pulled back behind her ear. Makeup painted her eyelashes dark and sensual—her cheeks rosy and lips glossy.

She supposed, with the white roses and white-lace choker, and the shimmering gold of the gown… she did look like some sort of angel.

 _Will Macbeth think so too?_

She blushed when the unwarranted thought invaded her mind.

There was a knock on the door. She swallowed and straightened her posture, knowing it was time.

The servant opened the door, and there stood Jezran Desmond Excalibur. He was even more classy than usual. He was not wearing a top hat, his gray-streaked hair slicked back and shaped carefully. His mustache had been waxed and curled at the ends. He wore a bright white tuxedo with a golden tie, his golden pocket watch chain hanging from his pocket. His pocket square was the same pink color as her accessories.

"Hey! You guys match!" Syllest pointed out, excitedly.

Jezran chuckled then held an arm out. "May I escort you young ladies to the ballroom?"

"Yes please, kind sir." Dreamer curtsied low. Syllest watched and tried to imitate the act.

"Yes please, kind grandpa." She skipped and took his hand while Dreamer took the proffered arm.

The walk was painfully slow, every step measured and refined. Syllestra tried her best to copy the sophisticated stride, but it was clear she was impatient.

"Why are we walking so slow?!" She tugged on Jezran's sleeve. "I want to see the ball! Hey! Are Uncle Piper and Uncle Gajeel and Uncle Erik and Uncle Pantherlily and Daddy Macbeth gonna be there?! Are they gonna wear dresses too?" she giggled. "I bet Macbeth would be beautiful in a dress! I can't wait to see it! I bet he's even prettier than Mommy!"

Dreamer's jaw dropped. "What did you call him, young lady?"

Syllest smiled sheepishly. "Um… Uncle Macbeth?"

Dreamer rolled her eyes, but then glanced over at Jezran. "Pops… do you know if…" She cleared her throat and forced the words out. "Do you know if he _is_ coming tonight?"

Jezran gave a polite smile and the slight shake of his head. "I am terribly sorry, dear me. He and the other men were vehemently opposed to the idea, other than Piper, that is. I am sure he will attend for your sake."

"Oh." There was a sinking feeling in her chest. She had hoped that maybe… She shook her head to rid the thought. Then lifted her chin and walked with elegance into the ballroom.

The Excalibur Mansion's ballroom was truly a sight to behold. A vaulted ceiling hung far overhead, the color of the dark sea. Floating in the air, high above, were twinkling lacrima orbs, enchanted to drift lazily near the ceiling so that when one glanced up, it looked almost as though they were staring at the night sky above. The floor was polished marble, so clear that it reflected twirling dresses and dancing shoes. Music wafted over the crowd, delicate hymns and the sound of harps. Murals stretched up the walls of the room, depicting adventures and swords lodged in stone. Easy laughter and conversation stirred in the music, as men and women in the finest attire danced and chatted and sang along. It was more magnificent than Dreamer remembered, from the time when she last stood at these doors, with a two-year old Syllestra in her arms.

Now, a beautiful seven-year-old gasped at the sight before them.

"Mom… It's amazing."

"It is..."

Jezran walked them onto the floor. Heads turned and smiles were cast their way. Ooh's and awe's aimed toward Syllest, who simply soaked in the praise. She even did a cute curtsy that sent the crowd into swoons.

"May I have the first dance?" Jezran asked, brown eyes twinkling.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Dreamer smiled in response. She took one of Jezran's hands and one of Syllest's, so that the three of them were hand-in-hand. They laughed and began to dance in a circle. It wasn't quite the proper dance for the occasion, but it made Syllest's giggles chime like bells through the crowd.

"What on earthland would I do without you girls, dear me?" Jezran chuckled, as he spun Syllest.

"You'd be a prince," Dreamer reminded him, taking her turn to be spun.

"It would be a true travesty, dear me."

The fun continued, until the song was done. Jezran bowed low before them. Dreamer curtsied. Syllest copied.

"If you will please excuse me," he righted himself. "I should make the rounds, dear me."

Arturus was standing not far off, looking expectantly at Jezran.

"Go ahead, Pops," Dreamer smiled. "Thank you for the dance."

He bowed once more, kissed her knuckles, then Syllest's forehead, and went to join his family.

"Mom, Mom, Mom," Syllest tugged harshly on the hem of her dress. "Is that food over there?!" She gestured at the tables that lined the east wall of the room, which were set with a lovely display of treats, wines, and champagnes.

"Should we go see?"

"Yeah! Come on, come on!"

So, they pushed through the crowd and reached one of the dessert tables. It was an entire table reserved for chocolate. There was a chocolate fountain, white chocolate, dark chocolate, dipped strawberries, chocolate cake, chocolate croissants, chocolate truffles…

"Syllest, don't you dare."

The girl stopped a centimeter from putting her tongue into the chocolate fountain. Her little cheeks took color and she beamed innocently. Dreamer rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the hearty laugh that followed. It was so good to be enjoying time like this with Syllestra. No worries, no threat hanging over their heads. Just dancing and laughter and endless chocolate.

Dreamer fixed the child a plate while she rambled.

"Mom, did you know Romeo doesn't like chocolate? That's crazy, right? What kind of kid doesn't like chocolate? Boys are so weird. Does Macbeth like chocolate? Oh, of course he does, he likes chocolate chip cookies. I wish Romeo was here, then we could dance together! But not because I like-like him, because I don't anymore. We decided to be friends. But friends can still dance together, right? We danced with Pops. But I guess that's different because he's like our grandpa, so…"

"Well, well, what d'we gots here?" A familiar, raspy voice greeted them.

"Uncle Piper!" Syllest turned on her heel and leapt into the man's arms.

"Oof, watch it kiddo! You're gettin' too big to do that anymore!" He reached to ruffle her hair, then thought better of it because of the style.

Dreamer had never seen Piper in this level of formal-wear before. He didn't even look like the same person.

His usually spiked Mohawk was combed neatly to the side. He wore a powder-blue suit and bowtie. He'd shaved his goatee and wasn't wearing any piercings at all. There wasn't a single scrap of denim or leather on his entire outfit. It was a bit startling—and Dreamer had the passing thought that Piper was incredibly handsome.

He caught her looking at him and gave a cocky grin. He appraised her for a moment, then gave a clumsy bow. "Yo, Dreamy." He straightened up. "You look… You know. You look good. Real good."

She curtsied politely. "And you look very handsome, Piper."

"Really?" He tugged on his bowtie. "Good, cuz this thing's itchy as hell."

"Teehee, Uncle Piper said 'hell.'"

"This whole ball thing ain't really my style," he put his hands in his pockets. "But it ain't horrible. Can you's imagine if Cana was here? That whole wine table'd be empty!"

Dreamer raised an amused eyebrow.

"B-But it ain't like I'm thinkin' about her or nothing." His cheeks flared up. "Anyways…" He chewed on his lip, then held a hand out to her. "You wanna dance with me, doll?"

Dreamer looked hesitantly at his hand, then at Syllestra. "I can't leave her alone," she said with a frown. Half of it was the ingrained, over-protective paranoia she had for the girl—part of it was fear that she'd end up bathing in the chocolate fountain.

"Do not worry, deary," Jezran's voice called out as the man approached the table. "I will watch her while you dance." He placed a hand on Syllest's shoulder.

"Are you sure, Pops?" Dreamer's frown deepened. "I know it's important for you to mingle and all that."

"A few minutes will not hurt, deary. Please, enjoy yourself." He gave his signature mustached smile. Piper tugged on her hand.

"You heard the man, let's go!"

She cast one last, uncertain glance at Jezran and Syllest before she sighed and followed her friend.

Piper cleared his throat and put a hand on Dreamer's waist, interlacing his fingers in her other hand. They began to waltz.

"You're not a bad dancer, Piper!" she said, surprised by his perfect form. "This doesn't seem like it would be your thing at all!"

"I'm full of surprises, Dreamy," he grinned cheekily. He pulled her a bit closer. "Hey. You's knows I'm always gonna be there for you's right? We're always gonna be pals."

"Of course," she giggled.

"And I ain't gonna stop lookin' out for you and Syllest, got it? You're still my girls, and I'll be damned if anyone tries to screw with you's."

"I know, Piper." She gave him a hug. "You're a good man."

"I mean it, Dreamy." He stopped dancing and looked at her with hard, emerald eyes. "If that bastard ever does you wrong, I'll kill 'im."

She blinked, not understanding. "That… bastard?"

"Yeah, you's knows exactly who I'm talking about." He grimaced, but then smiled gently at her. "But hey. I just want you's to be happy."

"I _am_ happy, Piper." She rolled her eyes, fighting a blush at the mention of "that bastard."

"I gots a feelin' you're about to be a helluva lot happier, doll."

Without warning, he gave her a small shove backward. She stumbled on too-high heels and began to fall. She closed her eyes, bracing for an impact that never came.

Arms closed around her. She found herself wrapped in lithe muscle and the peculiar scent of chamomile and metallic rust. Her heart caught in her chest. Her lungs stopped functioning. Her entire body felt paralyzed. She didn't have to look up to know who was holding her now.

"Hello," came the quiet drawl of a voice.

Finally, she looked up at him and took a sharp breath.

No lipstick. No mascara or eyeliner. Just red, swallowing eyes. His hair had been tamed, somewhat, the black pulled back to reveal more of the white underside. He wore no jewelry, no choker, no beads or braids. She would scarcely recognize him if not for those sharp eyes and the smirk, which she could never miss, even without the lipstick.

"M-Macbeth," she was ashamed of the stutter in her voice. "You came."

He looked away from her and said nothing. It might have just been the ethereal glow of the lights, but it looked like his cheeks took on some color.

His hands straightened her upright so that she wasn't leaning into him anymore. She took a half-step back and looked him over. He was in vested formalwear and black cuffs, a far cry from his usual style.

If she had thought Piper was handsome, then this… This was something else entirely.

"Wow," she whispered. _Wow? Seriously? What are you, stupid?! What does that even mean?_

He said nothing, but his eyes were scanning her boldly over. She felt stripped to the bone by his invasive stare—nearly hungry in its depth. His gaze rested on the rose pendant that sat on her cleavage. He licked his lips.

"H-HEY!" She poked his cheek. "My eyes are up here!" She protectively covered her breasts with her arms and huffed, while a hot blush washed over her cheeks.

He chuckled, sinisterly, but did lift his gaze back to her eyes.

He said nothing, nor made any move to dance. He just stared. She fought the overwhelming desire to activate her magic circles and read his emotions. Was he excited to see her? Was he as nervous as she was? Did he feel the same way she did…?

"D-Do you think I look nice?" she stuttered, instantly embarrassed that she was probing for a compliment.

"No." He answered without hesitation, a cruel gleam in his eyes.

Her heart sank and she had to avert her eyes from his. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, really…

"Hm." He suddenly took her hand and forced her into a dance posture. "It's too easy to torment you," he said, with an unholy grin.

She smiled shyly. "You're too mean," she whispered.

"I've told you before," he slid a hand to the small of her back and pulled her against him, "I like watching you suffer."

Chills ran down her spine. How could someone be so simultaneously terrifying and exciting at the same time? How could someone say things that were borderline cruel and creepy, and yet have such a gentle touch?

They started to dance. She couldn't believe it. It was like a dream. She never would have imagined in a million years that he would dance. With _her._ And yet, here they were. His hand on her waist, his body flush against hers, his breath on her neck because he'd chosen to press his face against her hair… It all felt like an unreal blur, like the world was spinning around her. The music sounded like distance noise, a murmur that made no sense. All that made sense was the undeniable sensation of his heartbeat in rhythm with hers. Was it beating fast? Or did everything just seem to be swirling too quickly now?

 _Does he feel this too?_

He brought his lips to her ear, so close, but not quite touching her skin. He parted them and breathed a tantalizingly hot breath that made her body respond in an unwarranted tremble. The words he whispered were less than romantic, however—and far less than friendly.

"I hate you," he whispered.

He said that, and yet he was moving in sync with her, and his grip had tightened, ever so slightly around her.

"Why?" She asked quietly. She still couldn't think straight. His harsh words didn't even register. All she could think about was his closeness. His scent. The proximity of his lips to her skin.

"Because you're irresistible." His words elicited a sigh from the recesses of her throat. Had he really said that? "Because you make me think I'm less evil than I am."

"You're not evil at all, Macbeth," she whispered back. She realized absently that her arms had closed around him, as well—that she was leaning her head against his chest, listening to his heart.

"See what I mean?" he hissed. "Just shut up."

They danced until the song ended. It seemed to end far too soon, and yet the moment lasted a lifetime. Once it was over, he held her for just a little longer, as if reluctant to let her go. Or, at least, that's what she hoped he was feeling.

"Want to know what I really think about how you look tonight?" His tone was teasing, the breath still brushing against the sensitive skin of her ear.

"Y-yes…" She felt her fingertips clutching the fabric of his vest, slightly, while she waited for what he would say next.

Slowly, he closed the space his warm breath had been filling. She gasped sharply as he drew his lips tauntingly along her skin, tracing the shape of her ear, lingering in the space beneath, where her jaw began. He hesitated, and she was sure he would press his mouth there and kiss her. To her embarrassment, there was nothing she wanted more in that instant than for those soft lips to close against her skin. Instead, his lower lip hovered there, just barely teasing her, his breath slightly ragged—hot against her flesh…

Then he pulled away.

Dreamer couldn't help but release a disappointed whine. He smirked victoriously, unashamed of torturing her senses like that. He released his hold on her and plunged his hands into his pockets before turning his back on her.

"Wait! Wh-where are you going?" She called after him, stunned. "Don't go! One more song, please!"

He paused. He looked over his shoulder and there was real reluctance there—a childlike uncertainty—a blush on his cheeks.

"Please, Macbeth…"

To her amazement, he came back to her. He took her hand again, touched her waist, and breathed a heavy sigh into her hair.

 _Now, Dreamer. You must do it now,_ she coached herself.

"Macbeth…" she looked up at him and swallowed a lump in her throat. "There's… something I want to tell you."

His eyelashes fluttered in surprise. His lips were a thin line.

"I… I really like you," she said, willing him to understand what she really meant. Pleading with his gaze.

"Obviously," he teased, but there was a tremble in his voice—a highness, the scared child.

"No, Macbeth… I mean." She took a deep breath, looking at his lips. "I…"

"Don't." He suddenly pressed his finger to her lips. There was a pained expression on his face. "Don't say it, Dream."

She felt a cold splash of shock in her chest. "Why?"

"You can't." Tears shimmered in the corners of his eyes. "I'm a monster."

"No, you're not!" She clutched him tightly against her, and cupped his jaw. "You're one of us. You're a good man, not a monster. Not anymore."

He wanted to believe her. There was desperation there, in his parted lips, in the tears.

"You're going to make right all the bad things you've done, and you're going to find your freedom. And I… I want to be there with you, by your side when you find it." She could no longer imagine a future where Macbeth wasn't a part of Team Derelict Heart, where he wasn't intricately woven into every part of her life. It had been less than a year since she found him in the wreckage of Nirvana, and yet... the memories they'd made carried the weight of many years, splintering the fragile wood of time. "I want to always be by your side, Macbeth."

"Dream…" he whimpered, the tears beginning to fall.

"I love you," she said. Finally. Resolutely.

He closed his eyes.

"You don't have to say it," she whispered, soothingly. "Just… Kiss me. Please."

He tilted his forehead against hers and shared her breath. Lips, so close. She parted hers, expectantly. Lips brushed slightly, just enough to send sparks of electricity through her whole body. Her tongue danced, a sigh escaped, and his mouth hovered there, soft lips teasing her yet again. Then...

"No." He pulled away, leaving an icy chill on her lips and a void in her arms.

"Macbeth?" Something broke inside of her. He refused to meet her gaze, just put his hands in his pockets and turned his back on her. "S-Stop! The teasing isn't funny anymore! I just want-"

"I don't love you, Dream."

Never had words been so sharp. It was like every sword in Erza's repertoire had stabbed her all at once. Like she was shredded to ribbons. Like Gildart's magic had reduced her to tiny pieces or Gray's ice had shattered her. Like all the magic in the world imploded in her chest.

"You don't mean that..." she said, as cold tears fell onto her chest.

He didn't answer. He didn't look at her. Just tucked his head lower, as if he were ashamed, and practically fled into the crowd.

Her arms went limp.

 _Why, Macbeth? What are you so afraid of?_

She put her face in her hands and cried. Sobs wracked her body, salty tears splashing on the pendant she wore. She wept, alone and rejected and so, so cold...

Until a gloved hand rested on her shoulder.

"Pardon me," said a voice she'd never heard before.

She lifted her head and was met with a red gaze. She was confused for a moment, thinking it was Macbeth again. These eyes were just as consuming as his, but no… They were sharper, somehow.

He was a man she'd never met, with skin as white as snow, and pale lips to match. His hair was long, and as equally colored, draping along a slender neck. He held himself in a way that declared regality. He wore a black masquerade mask that framed his red eyes, and was dressed in something of a royal robe, trimmed by black and red. He was possibly the most elegant man she'd ever seen.

"Forgive me," he said. His voice was deep and formal. "I could not help but notice a beautiful woman weeping on the ballroom floor. Are you alright?"

She bit her lip and shook her head vigorously before wiping tears away with the back of her hand. "I-I'm fine."

"I find that unlikely," he said, gently. "I must assume that the man you were dancing with had less than kind words to say to you?"

She blushed in shame and looked at the roses on her dress. A white petal fell to the floor.

"He can be cruel," she said, honestly.

"How unfortunate." The man took her hands into his own, white-gloved palms. "In what version of reality is it acceptable for a man to treat such a lovely young woman with anything but reverence? To stoop so low as to engage in cruelty is detestable, at the very least. A divine creature such as yourself, a goddess of feminine light, should be worshipped—not made to weep alone on a floor that should bend to her will."

She blinked, caught again in his sharp red eyes.

"Um… Excuse me. Who are you?"

He gave a light smile. "I am but a humble man, unworthy of speaking my name to a goddess." He bowed low. "Lovely goddess, please, allow me to have this next dance, if it may mitigate some of the pain my fellow man has dished upon you."

She wiped the last tears with her wrist, a bit flustered by the elaborate praise. Part of her wanted to run after Macbeth, but another part was angry—bitter and frustrated. It was this part that prompted her to lift her chin and do a slow curtsy before taking the stranger's hand once more.

"I would be honored to dance with a gentleman like yourself."

He smiled and drew her against him. She allowed herself to be lost in the moment, pushing away the pain of Macbeth's cruel words. This man was right. She shouldn't have to be treated like that. Teased all the time and turned down, repeatedly. It was all just a game to him. She was just a toy, nothing more. To think Macbeth might have real feelings for her…

"It is quite a shame," the man whispered, close to her ear. "You really are quite beautiful, and kind. You hardly deserve all that life has cast as your lot."

She narrowed her eyes and looked up at him. "What?"

He was smiling wanly at her. "I hope you can forgive me, Dreamer." He touched her hair. "I serve him because I too have lost someone I love, and he has given me a means to find her again. I am sure you would do just as I have done, if it would bring your sister back."

She stumbled back, out of his arms. "Who are you?!"

"I am truly sorry."

A high scream split the air. The crowd began to panic, running in all directions as snakes suddenly littered the floor. The man who had been standing before her opened his arms wide, and from his shoulder blades sprouted wings that dripped red—with blood.

"DREAMER!" Jezran's voice called out to her, and the man shoved through the crowd to reach her. "Are you alright, dear me?!" He grabbed her shoulders and looked around her, desperately. "Dreamer, where is Syllestra?"

"Where is… She was with _you_!"

"No, Dreamer," he shook his head, eyes grave. "I was with my father this entire time! I have not seen her!"

 _He'd said "deary."_

The Jezran who had taken Syllest… He'd said "deary." She thought she was hearing it wrong. No, it wasn't a fault of hearing, it was a fault of the illusionist who didn't know Jezran's mannerisms.

She'd handed Syllest directly into their hands.

"This is the work of Giseld, Sânge, and Jacque!" Jezran's usually calm face was alight with terror.

Something fluttered to the ground in front of Dreamer. When she looked at it, dread clamped onto her heart like a vice.

It was a card.

"This was Resmond's plan all along!"

A king of diamonds.

* * *

 **A/N: And cue... The final arc. The ultimate showdown! Are you ready? What are your thoughts, predictions, worries? Let me know in the reviews! And, as always, thank you for your support, friends. ^^**


	59. Father and Daughter

**A/N: How fitting that this chapter is being published on Father's Day here in the U.S. Here's to Resmond, the least fatherly figure I can imagine!~~~**

* * *

 **Chapter 59: Father and Daughter**

In the midst of the mayhem, Arturus Excalibur shoved his way to Dreamer and Jezran. "What is the meaning of this?!"

Suddenly, Jezran's hands were on his father's shoulders. His brown eyes were glowering, the kind face now etched with rage.

"Father, you allowed villains into this celebration! Villains who have now captured Syllestra, dear me! Explain yourself!"

"Jezran." Arturus met his eyes, levelly. "If you think for one second that I would allow harm to befall anyone in my Family, then you are sorely mistaken."

"It was Jacque!" Dreamer shouted. "He was using illusions! We have to find her—we have to hurry!" Her screams were bloodcurdling, her eyes retracted to nothing but shaking pupils.

"Yo!" Piper cut through the crowd to them, with a pale face. "It's the snake-bitch! I'd recognize these bastards anywhere! Where's Syllest?"

He looked at Dreamer—at the completely wrecked state she was in, and a weight dropped in his chest. "No, doll… It ain't true."

"EVERYONE! SCOUT THE ESTATE! BRING BACK SYLLESTRA!" Arturus's voice bellowed over the crowd. Suit jackets were all cast to the floor as thugs revealed their true forms. Tattooed men and women with Excalibur crests. Brass knuckles and magical guns. They immediately broke into teams and rushed from the room.

Within moments, they were met with Erik, Gajeel, and Pantherlily.

"Hey, what's going on?" Gajeel said, breathlessly. "We heard Dreamer screamin.'"

Erik gritted his teeth as he listened to the roar of voices in his head. "They have the girl…"

Suddenly, Dreamer had launched herself at Erik. She was clawing at him like a wild animal, landing a scratch on his cheek before Gajeel picked her up by the shoulders.

"YOU!" She was wild. Uncontrollable. "You hear everything! Why didn't you stop them?! You're working for him, aren't you?! You never stopped working for Resmond! I'll kill you!"

Erik stared at her with wide eyes, actually looking frightened.

"Calm down," he snapped. "You've got it all wrong! These guys wear necklaces with those black diamonds on them. There's some kind of dark magic in them that blocks off my hearing, okay? I didn't know about this."

"LIAR!"

Gajeel yanked her hard against his chest, barring her with his strong arms. "Where's Beth, Dreamer?"

"He… I don't know…" She sobbed against Gajeel's arms. "He left me. If he'd been here…"

 _Gone. Syllestra is gone. He has her. Resmond has her._

She screamed again, flailing uselessly in Gajeel's arms. "We have to find her! Why are we standing here! Pops! Track her! Track her now!"

Jezran was already looking at his pocket watch with a somber expression. "I… I cannot, dear me." He held the watch up for her to see. Somehow, at some point in the night, someone had replaced his magical watch with an almost identical one. The difference was, the inside depicted an image of a laughing snake.

 _He planned this all perfectly. We were never any match for him. Resmond always wins. There's no escape. No escape. Gone. She's gone._

In a panic, Dreamer bit Gajeel's arm. He cursed out loud and dropped her. In a flash she was running for the exit, tears pouring down her face.

 _I'll find her! If no one will help me, I'll find her myself! Syllestra, I'll save you!_

She had no idea where she was running to. There was no logic, just the wild need to save her niece. Her _daughter_.

Tears blurred her vision. She tripped, landed painfully on her knees—righted herself. Kept running.

 _Syllestra. Syllestra. Syllestra._

She collided with something firm. Arms encircled her.

"MOVE! Syllestra! I have to get to Syllestra!"

"Dreamer." His voice was as firm as his hold. Something about it was powerful. Powerful enough to break her spirit.

"Stop," he commanded. "We'll find her. We'll find her together."

"Macbeth…" She sobbed into his shirt. "This is _your_ fault! Y-You left us out there! You were supposed to protect her! You were supposed to be there for us!" She was delirious in her wild screams.

He went rigid. "Enough." He said, loudly. "We will never find her unless you control your emotions, Dream. Look at me!"

She did. Caught immediately in swirling red.

"Hate me if you need to," he said, with hard resolve. "Do whatever you need to do, but you _must_ focus. You must get ahold of yourself if you want to get her back."

She swallowed through hyperventilating, and gave a nod. She kept her eyes fixed on his, the only thing steadying her. "Help me, Macbeth."

His expression was serious, eyes never straying away. "Always."

The others caught up—Gajeel with a pissed off expression and a perfect crescent shape of teeth marks in his forearm—Erik looking equally pissed off, with red scratches on his right cheek.

"Erik," Macbeth started. The redhead shook his head before he could even ask the question.

"My Family is searching the perimeter," Jezran said, as he caught his breath.

"Did anyone see where Sânge or Giseld went?"

Piper shook his head. "I never saw Giseld, only her snakes."

Their expressions were grim. Gajeel's nose twitched and he cursed. "I can't pick up a smell with all these other weird scents all around."

"What do we do?" Dreamer looked expectantly at Macbeth. There was fear in his eyes, but also cold determination.

"Pardon me," the black exceed said. "Perhaps, since I'm lower to the ground, I've been able to notice something you haven't." He bent down and picked something up off the floor. He held it up to Dreamer, who took it with trembling fingers.

It was a pink-diamond tear drop.

"She left us a trail to follow," she whispered, in total awe.

"That's our girl!" Piper said, with a fist pump.

"Everyone, follow those diamonds!"

* * *

A balloon-shaped man ushered a young girl forward, in an underground tunnel. She was gagged and bound by the wrists. Tears dripped from her chin, twinkling in the torchlight before they hit the earth below. Tiny, pink tears.

"Almost there, girlie," the man said, as they approached an iron door at the end of the tunnel.

Before they had reached it, it opened with a groan. There stood a curvy woman with forest green hair and slits for eyes. She smiled from ear-to-ear at the sight of Syllest, and bared two snake-like fangs.

"Princess!" The woman rushed forward and pulled the girl hard against her bosom, running her sharp nails through her charcoal hair. "At last, my sweet Princess!"

She grabbed Syllest's wrist and tugged her through the doorway. They entered a basement—a storage room loaded with barrels of diamonds, mechanical devices, carts, and boxes. The round man shut and locked the iron door behind them, while Giseld tore the gag from Syllestra's mouth.

"My sweet child…" She lovingly reached for Syllest's cheek, but the girl jerked her head to the side.

"Who are you?!" Her voice quavered. "I want my mom!"

"Careful, Giseld," Jacque warned, with a breathless sigh as he deposited his weight on a box. "She's a feisty one, that kid."

"Syllest," Giseld smiled, eyes delirious. "I _am_ your mom."

Syllestra's eyes widened, but only momentarily. She stepped back, away from the snake-woman. "No! My mom is Dreamer! I want to go back to her! Let me go!"

Giseld's face contorted with fury at the mention of Dreamer. She folded her arms over her breasts and tapped her nails on her forearms in irritation. "That selfish little wench is _not_ your mother. _I_ am your new mother now, princess. You better get used to it."

"NO!" Since her legs were unbound, she ran. She had no idea where to go, or where it would lead, but she made for a set of stairs at the far end of the room. Before she'd reached them, an image flashed in front of her eyes and blocked the way. A man with black and yellow hair, a pointed face, and a long nose now sat on the bottom step.

She skidded to a halt and turned to run in the other direction, only to be caught by the arms. She was picked up and sat roughly on a chair by a beautiful woman with white hair and slanted eyes, dressed in feathers.

"Y-You're Macbeth's friends!" She recognized them, from the short time they'd been at the guild hall, right before Erik moved in. "Tell them to l-let me go! Please!"

Sawyer avoided her eyes. Sorano crossed her arms. In deadpan, she addressed Giseld. "Were they there?"

"Who?" Giseld examined a broken nail with a frown. "Oh, the assassins? Yes, they were there. But my King's plan worked out perfectly! Too perfectly! In fact, your poison-slayer wasn't even in the building, and the transvestite was too busy giving the wench the cold-shoulder to pay attention to anything around him. It couldn't have gone better!"

"H-Hey, Giseld…" Jacque cleared his throat. "Y-You think the King'll forgive me now? You know… for letting her go before?"

The woman scoffed then bared her fangs at him. "You're lucky my King is so merciful! If it were me, I'd have had you slaughtered for losing the princess!"

Syllest pinched her lips together. She sprung from the chair to make another run, first stomping her foot on Sorano's heeled toes.

Sorano hissed in pain.

"Told you so," Jacque pointed out. "Feisty."

She ran behind boxes to hide. _I have to be strong… Like Mommy and Macbeth and Romeo. I have to be brave, like a real fairy! I-I'm not scared! I'm not!_

She searched desperately for something to sever the ropes on her wrists, while the adults talked casually back in the center of the room, as if they weren't concerned in the slightest about her escaping. She gritted her teeth and cried as she tried to wiggled her hands out of the binding.

"Enough," said a new voice. "You will make yourself bleed if you force it."

"Sânge!" Giseld exclaimed.

A white-haired man had materialized out of a red mist in front of Syllest. He looked down at her with serious, dark-red eyes. The little girl stared up at him, her mouth parted, lips trembling.

"Blood is precious," he continued, gravely. "You should not waste a single drop of it."

Syllest swallowed nervously, then fell to her knees in front of him. "H-Help me, mister!" she cried. "P-Please, I want to go home! I want my m-mommy! I'm scared…"

Sânge's pale lip twitched in a frown. He looked at her with a sad expression.

"Please! Y-You're nice, I know it! You have eyes like Macbeth! So please, please, let me go home! Let me see my mommy! Please!" she sobbed at his feet, petitioning him with everything in her little body.

He kneeled down to her level and held out a gloved hand. "You would like to see your mother again?"

"Yes!" she whimpered and clutched his hand for dear life.

With unfeeling eyes, he said, "So would I."

Syllest screamed at the top of her lungs as Sânge dragged her to the stairs. Sawyer stepped aside to let them pass.

"At last! A family reunion!" Giseld ran to catch up, but the blood dragon-slayer held up a hand to stop her.

"This is none of your concern, Giseld. The King wishes to see his daughter alone."

Giseld pouted as the rejection sunk in. Syllestra's screaming stopped at his words.

 _Daughter…_

She remembered when Dreamer told her the truth about everything. About who this bad man really was.

"NO! NO I DON'T WANT TO MEET HIM! LET ME GO!" She writhed and panicked in Sânge's grip. Sawyer raced to stuff the gag back in her mouth, then helped prod her up the stairs…

To meet her father.

* * *

"Here." Jezran pointed at a hatch in the ground, outside the walls of the Excalibur estate. The trail of diamonds led here.

"That tunnel leads to the ruins on the planes to the south of here," his brother—who had come along with them—said.

"Then that is where his base of operations is," Jezran responded.

 _All along_. Resmond had been planning this all along. Operating less than five miles from Jezran's very own estate.

"I will gather the militia and we will surround the ruins," Terrence said. "You should continue to follow the trail underground."

"Be swift, dear me."

The younger brother was gone in a moment.

Gajeel and Erik were prying open the heavy shaft-door. Piper was rolling his dice with a strained expression. And Macbeth's hands were on Dreamer's shoulders, his eyes level with hers.

"You should stay," he said, quietly.

"Are you insane?!" she was still shaking. She hadn't stopped. Not since she realized Syllest was gone.

"Dream." His expression was grim. "If you panic and lose control, he'll kill you."

"I can't leave her, Macbeth." She begged him to understand. "I can't let him have her too."

"I'll bring her back," he said, never once dropping his gaze.

"No! I can't stay behind! I have to be there with her!"

"Doll, Mac's right," Piper walked up while putting his dice back in his pocket. "I hate to break it to you's, but… Our numbers aren't lookin' hot. This ain't luck we can afford to push. You's oughta let us take care of it."

"NO!" she clenched her fists, the tears continuing to flow. "I _have_ to protect her! I have to protect her from him!"

"Doll—"

Macbeth shook his head at Piper. He lifted Dreamer's chin with his fingertips, willing her to look at him again. "Don't leave my side."

She stared wide-eyed, then nodded in determination.

His grip on her chin tightened. "I'm serious, Dream. If you leave my side… I'll make you pay." There was just the tiniest hint of a smirk on his features, despite the gravity of the situation.

Somehow, for some completely irrational reason, she laughed out loud.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Gajeel shouted. "It ain't time to be flirting! We've got ass to kick!" He jumped down into the tunnel.

"Yo! Nobody kill Res until I get a chance to punch 'im square in the jaw a few times!" Piper followed, boots thudding on the ground in the tunnel below.

Dreamer and Macbeth shared one last look, a brief nod, and then they too dropped into the tunnel. Jezran and Pantherlily followed closely behind.

* * *

Sânge instructed Sawyer to leave, once they'd made the seemingly endless trek up the spiral stairs to the top of the tower. His grip remained tight on Syllest's hand as he knocked on another metal door.

"Your Majesty," he loudly declared. "I have brought the princess."

There was no answer for a long moment. And then finally… "Come in."

Syllestra was still sobbing, tiny whimpers wracking her body, kept muffled by the cloth jammed in her mouth. Her small form shook violently, as she walked into the room.

There stood Resmond, the King of Diamonds. As tall as Elfman, but sleek and lean. His hair was the same charcoal black as hers, and swept the same way—a waterfall of layered raven feathers. Atop his head was a crown, and his hands were clasped behind his back.

"Hello." He looked at her with shocking yellow eyes. She whimpered and stumbled backward into Sânge.

She recognized this man. He was the shadow in her nightmares. The electric darkness that kept her locked in a cage. He was the monster that Dreamer protected her from, by taking her nightmares away.

His yellow eyes scanned her over, appraising her like a prepared sacrifice, not like the child she was. "You look like me," he pointed out. "Which is a little disappointing."

She quavered under the sound of his voice. It was familiar, like she'd heard it long ago, before a time she could remember.

"I had hoped you would look more like your mother. It's strange that her sister shares a closer resemblance than her own daughter. My genes must be strong." He continued to stare, never once changing his stiff posture. "Sânge, take that thing out of her mouth."

Sânge looked down at Syllestra in an expression of horror. "Your Majesty, I… Do I have to touch it?"

"You have gloves on, don't you?"

Sânge winced, but reluctantly obeyed. He pinched the corner of the gag and pulled it out of her mouth with an expression of disgust. He immediately discarded both the rag, and his glove, into the trashcan by the door.

Now Syllest's whimpering sobs could be heard.

"Are you afraid?" Resmond asked, with a blank expression.

Syllestra couldn't answer. Terror had paralyzed her tongue.

"Will you show me your magic?"

She shook her head, sending tears flinging around her. His gaze drifted to the ground, where a sparkling pink diamond remained. "Sânge."

The blood-dragon slayer blanched, even whiter than his normal skin tone. With his remaining gloved hand, he hesitantly leaned and retrieved a tear, before humbly offering it to his king.

Resmond took the diamond and examined it closely. With one hand, he created an orb of darkness around it—or at least tried to. The diamond sparkled, and the darkness shattered.

"It's pure," he said, in monotone. "That's good." He looked at Syllestra again. "Do you want to see my magic?"

She shook her head, vigorously.

Resmond didn't heed her. He put his hands together and began to craft something out of diamonds, the same way Syllestra would. She stared in terrified awe as he easily created a black-diamond dagger. It had taken her weeks and lots of practice to make the pink one Dreamer had found in her pillow. Resmond did it instantly.

"See?" He held it up for her. "It's cool. But… unfortunately, my diamonds are _not_ pure. Not like yours, Syllestra."

He strode forward, moving for the first real time. She gasped when he was suddenly holding the black blade to her throat. She closed her eyes and whimpered, tears streaking her face.

Sânge looked away, red eyes filled with shame.

"Come look at this with your dad," Resmond ordered, in the least dad-like tone imaginable.

Syllestra stumbled forward, driven by the terror of the cold mineral against her skin. She went to the balcony railing, overlooking the massive diamond structure below.

"You're going to help me break that pesky diamond case," he said. "Do not worry, once we've completed that task, I'll stop threatening you. I promise." He did not drop the blade. "You have a merciful daddy, don't you?"

She cried silently.

"Sânge, catch." Resmond reached in his cloak and threw something to the other man. Sânge caught it, carefully, his eyes gleaming brightly. In his hands was the blood lacrima, pulsing rapidly in sync with his heartbeat. "I recommend inserting it immediately," Resmond said, without looking at him. "It is likely we will have company before long and I would like you to successfully kill Macbeth this time."

"No!" Syllestra cried out, breaking her quivering silence. This seemed to surprise Resmond, who glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you worried about him, Syllestra?"

"Y-You can't hurt M-Macbeth! H-He'll kill you! He's g-gonna come save me! Him and my mommy!" Somehow, this child spoke these words with all the bravery of an adult, despite the blade pressed against her artery.

"Sânge, why are you still standing there?" Resmond kept staring at Syllest. "Remember, you will need to remove your heart to insert the lacrima. Try not to die, please."

"Yes, your Majesty!" Sânge was gone in only a moment, cradling the lacrima to his chest like a precious gift.

"Why do you like Macbeth more than me?" Resmond frowned. "I'm your father."

"No you're not!" Syllestra cried. "You're just… you're just a _bad man_!"

"Oh…" he gave a long, heavy sigh. "Your mother called me names, too." There was no emotion here. No indicator that the name-calling had upset him—or had any effect on him at all. "Do you scream like her?"

Syllest said nothing, just continued to shake and cry, praying for someone to come in the door and save her. Praying for Macbeth to come and turn into a giant monster and smash this horrible man against the wall.

"I really want to know…" He dropped the blade from her throat then suddenly picked her up by the collar of the ball-gown she still wore. Then, he lifted her legs over the railing and dangled his daughter over the deep tower shaft.

Her scream echoed off diamonds and stones. Blood-curdling. Ear-shattering. Enough to make the slaves all pause below, to look up at the child flailing over the drop.

Resmond closed his eyes in pleasure.

"Just like Rosy."

* * *

 **A/N: I loved all of your reviews for the last chapter, friends! I knew Macbeth was going to break some hearts there during the dance. xD Simana, I liked your guesses as to the battle pairings. You miscalculated though, because Sawyer and Sorano will be involved in this final confrontation. ;)**

 **Development Section**

 **I promised to talk about how I came up with Sânge and Resmond, so it's time I deliver.**

 **Resmond... Oh, Resmond. I have created a number of villains in my time as a writer, but very few have given me as much trouble as The King. I decided early in development that Syllest's father would be the baddie, before I even decided if Syllestra would be Dreamer's daughter by blood. I was drawn to the idea of Syllestra inheriting a dangerous magic, leading her to a life of decisions regarding how she would use that magic, whether for good or evil. So, I needed to create a dangerously powerful and evil father for her.**

 **I threw around a lot of ideas about how to connect Resmond to the Fairy Tail universe. I thought about giving him connections to canon characters, but nothing seemed to work the way I wanted it to. Plus, it felt much more personal, to have a completely original villain, disconnected from all but my other OCs. I wanted his presence in Dreamer and Syllestra's life to be personal, real, tangible. He is *their* villain, not just some universal douchebag. He is the phantom that haunts _them,_ specifically. **

**The hard part was his personality. Why did he kill Rosy? Did he actually kill her or was he framed? Is he an antihero, not a true villain? Is there redemptive qualities in him? What motivates him? Why does he want to shake the earth and destroy continents?**

 **Honestly, I couldn't answer most of those questions until I was drafting Chapter 51, where he was officially introduced. Let me tell you... I have _never_ had as much difficulty writing a chapter as I did with that. one. stupid. chapter. I wrote, deleted, rewrote, deleted, cried into a coffee mug in the morning, cried into a wine glass at night, set the chapter aside for three days, came back to it... All because I didn't understand Resmond at all. When he spoke, it felt fake. When I made him move, he felt like a puppet. I couldn't wrap my mind around him. I ended up pacing in my room with my eyes closed, trying to put myself in his shoes; trying to imagine what it would be like to be the King of Diamonds. **

**I'm not sure how it happened, but suddenly I understood where I had been going wrong. I was trying so hard to tack motives onto this character. I was trying so hard to make him _feel_ something, be driven by anger or revenge or lust or _anything_. And it occurred to me that I couldn't do that with Resmond, because he is the complete _antithesis_ to Dreamer. Everything that she is, he is not. And what is she? She's an emotion mage, deeply empathetic, who feels everything so strongly... The reason I couldn't get Resmond to work for me, was that I was trying to make him have emotions. **

**He doesn't.**

 **Resmond is a textbook sociopath. Charming, devilishly handsome, but completely unable to experience emotion. A hollow man, who only ever felt a single spark of excitement when he heard his wife scream. He's the type of villain who's supposed to make your skin crawl, because he's mysterious and handsome and you want to understand him so badly, but you can't. He's a decently powerful wizard, sure, but what makes him so dangerous and terrifying isn't his magic, it's his cold, calculating ability to achieve whatever he wants to achieve. Staking his hideout right outside the Pergrande estate? That was an obvious choice. He knew he just had to lure Dreamer to her Excalibur family, which is something he could have done whenever he wanted, really, but that's the beauty and terror of Resmond. He acts whenever it suits him.**

 **You guys will get a better feel for him in this final arc, of course. Hopefully, he has delivered as a worthy, frightening villain in your eyes!**


	60. The Battle Begins

**Chapter 60: The Battle Begins**

 **The Nation of Pergrande, A Few Miles South of the Excalibur Estate:**

On the plains sat the ruins of an ancient castle. Rumor had it that it was the original home for the royalty of Pergrande, a family line that relocated when their kingdom grew and the capitol city was established. Now, the metal and stone castle stood half-demolished in the center of the grassy plains, not far from the Excalibur Estate, secretly housing the transported Nikolana Device and its diamond casing.

A militia stood before the castle gates, led by the younger son of Arturus Gallavantia Excalibur. He raised his fist to the sky and addressed the raggedy warriors who stood guarding the castle. Most of them looked young, skinny, and terrified. Slaves forced into battle by the King of Diamonds.

"You've made a grave mistake, starting war with the Excalibur Family! Boys, let's get back our baby girl!"

There was a roar of excitement as the group of thugs cracked their knuckles and charged the main gate of the castle.

Their presence on the battlefield would give the retrieval group a little bit more space and time to do their job. To find Syllestra. To put an end to Resmond's reign of terror.

* * *

 **Fiore, The Fairy Tail Guild Hall:**

"Dammit!" Master Makarov of Fairy Tail slammed his fist down on the table in front of him before putting his face in his hands. "How could I have been so foolish?"

Before him stood Erza, her scarlet hair hanging down, fist trembling at her side. "You are not to blame, Master," she said with a quaver. "It was I who fell for the planted evidence."

Mirajane collapsed weekly onto a bench, tears rolling down her cheeks. "They have to fight him all alone… Dreamer, Syllest…"

"Isn't there something we can do?" This was said by Cana, who was uncharacteristically sober.

Makarov shook his head, grimly. "The trip to Pergrande is three days by train. There's no way we could make it there in time to have any kind of effect on the battle." He sighed, heavily. "All we can do is place our faith in them, and pray for their safety."

Mira wiped her eyes, though the tears continued to fall. "They'll win," she whispered. Then louder, "They're members of Fairy Tail, and Fairy Tail never loses and we never give up on our friends!"

"Yeah, Mira's right," Cana nodded and gave a smile. "We gotta have some faith. There's some badass wizards on that team. Mac, Gajeel, Cobra, Pops, Dreamer. There's no way they'll lose!"

Erza's hard face broke into a tender smile. "You're right. We must have faith."

* * *

 **The Tunnel:**

The group raced through the underground tunnel, following the trail of diamonds. Turning corner after corner, chests heaving for breath as they rushed to rescue the innocent child who was in over her head.

Suddenly, Jezran's steps began to slow. "This is incorrect."

"Pops! We ain't got time! You break a hip or somethin'? Get movin!'"

Jezran stayed rooted to the spot. He shook his head slowly. "I assure you, dear me, that we have been down this corridor already."

"What?" Dreamer looked back at him. "No, we haven't made any loops!"

Jezran narrowed his eyes. "I am quite sure," he said, darkly. "Look." He pointed at two rocks in front of him.

"So what, old man?" Gajeel snapped.

"The rock on the left is approximately five inches wide and three inches tall. It has a point on the top right side, giving it the appearance of a strangely shaped dog head. The stone beside it is about one meter away, and half the size. The footprint in the middle belongs to a man of substantial weight, based on the depth of the print and the size. We have passed this area once before. I do have an eye for detail, dear me."

Dreamer and Macbeth shared a look.

"Jacque."

"It seems we have been duped into traveling in circles."

"Where is the bastard?!" Gajeel pumped himself up for a battle. "Come out and fight, coward!"

"Gajeel," Pantherlily said. "Can you smell anything?"

The dragon-slayer's nose twitched. He bared a canine and shook his head. "All I smell is dirt and baby-blue's cologne." He shot Piper a sharp look.

"Erik?" Macbeth glanced at the redhead.

"No. It's those black diamonds… Tch." He closed his eyes in irritation. "I can't hear through dark magic. And it would be impossible anyway, with all of you shouting internally right now."

"Coward…" Macbeth said, quietly, in reference to Jacque. He looked suddenly at Dreamer, his eyes wide with realization. "He's a cowardly swine." His expression was expectant, waiting for her to catch on.

"We already knew that," she pointed out, not catching his meaning.

"Dreamer, use your magic," he ordered.

"Wha—but I can't use if it he's not even—"

"You should be able to sense his fear, shouldn't you?" His eyes flicked back and forth between hers. "He reeks with it, and if anyone can follow the scent of emotions, it's you."

Her eyes widened, then she nodded in determination. "Okay." She closed her eyes and willed forward her magical energy, sensing the emotions of those around her.

Fear was everywhere. All of them were exuding it. Fear, worry. How was she supposed to locate one person's fear when they were all practically drowning in it? It wasn't like her magic was fine-tuned enough to be able to identify the emotions of individuals in a group. She wasn't even sure that was a possible feat.

"I… I don't think I can…"

"You can," Macbeth said.

"You got this, doll!" Piper encouraged.

"We believe in you, dear me." Jezran assured.

Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with feelings of faith and determination. Her friends' emotions all spiked at once, filling the air with a fire of hope. It was warm—the crackle of a campfire on a cold night. Powerful. Refreshing. The sensation of a sip of lime juice on summer's day. She felt it—basked in the glow of the courage of her friends.

And since their emotions had changed, she was able to pinpoint it. All the emotion she was sensing had become that fire of determination—all except one strange sense of terror that still echoed around them. Instead of growing hopeful, that sense of fear had tripled when her friends stepped up to support her. If the feelings of her friends was a warm campfire, then this was a splash of cold water. No, it was grimier than that, like being spattered with mud. This gross fear could only come from one place. The enemy.

"There." She pointed at a wall.

"The wall? You're losin' it, Dreamy…"

"No, I'm sure." The wall oozed with it. The splattering mud of terror, coming from a cowardly swine.

Macbeth raised a hand to manipulate the wall, but was interrupted by an iron rod shooting right into it. There was a grunt, and the fake wall evaporated—an illusion all along. Behind it stood a round man, wearing a black diamond necklace.

"Pig." Macbeth's voice was a seething hiss. He approached Jacque, who was still dizzy from the punch to the head. When he regained consciousness, he fell to his rump, cowering before Macbeth. "I should have killed you on that rooftop."

"L-Listen, I don't want to fight, Mr. Night Terror, sir!"

"Who's the beach ball?" Gajeel asked.

"Make yourself useful," Macbeth ordered, casting a dark shadow onto the other man. "Or I'll send you into oblivion."

"Alright, alright!" He waved his pudgy hands in defeat. "You've got to understand! Resmond scares me, okay! I do what he wants because he's… he's terrifying!"

Macbeth laughed out loud, that sadistic laugh reserved for moments like these. "Terrifying? Don't you remember what true terror looks like, Jacque?!" He manipulated the man's collar, tightening it around his chubby throat.

"Okay, okay!" he squealed. "Listen, down this tunnel is a door! It leads to the basement of the ruins, but the King is in the tower! There's no way you'll make it there! He's got slaves and soldiers waiting for you everywhere. A lot of them are wizards!"

"Where is he keeping Syllest?" Dreamer asked, moving to loom over him at Macbeth's side. From Jacque's point of view, the demonic glint in her eyes was even scarier than the Night Terror's…

"Y-You don't want to know…" He swallowed hard, causing rolls on his neck to jiggle.

"Trust me, bubs." Piper approached and put his heel against Jacque's balloon belly. "We wants ta know."

"He's probably already started the process!" Jacque cried. "Which means she'll be above the device! But you'll never make it! I might be a coward, but the others aren't! Even if you can get past Giseld, Racer, and Angel, you'll never beat Sânge. And if you do…"

Resmond would be next.

"We've heard enough," Pantherlily said. "We don't have time to waste!"

Jezran quickly tied Jacque's hands and feet together before they continued to race toward the end of the tunnel, leaving the "pig" hog-tied behind them.

"So, Angel and Racer stayed…" Erik said as they ran. He scoffed. "Look at what you did to the Seis, Midnight."

Macbeth didn't glance at him. "If you want to change sides, tell me now so I can kill you and get it over with."

Erik's face broke into a smirk. "Nah. I'm stickin' with you fairies, through and through."

They skidded to a halt when the tunnel narrowed and ended with an iron door.

"Look at that." Gajeel stepped forward and ripped the handle off before sticking it in his mouth. "I needed a snack." He ate the door open for them, then sniffed the air. "Girly's been through here alright."

They pushed their way into the dark storage room. The lights had been turned off, and it was pitch black only a few feet in front of them. Erik's eyebrow twitched as sounds reached him.

"Don't move." He hissed. "And shut up."

The group paused, holding their breath as he listened.

"Keep to the left wall. It'll take you to the stairs. Don't get bit."

"Bubs… What do you's mean, don't get bit?" Piper started to tremble. "God dammit, it's the snake-chick ain't it? Snakes in the dark, it figures!"

"Go now!" Erik snapped.

"What about you?" Dreamer asked.

"I'll keep her busy." He stepped into the darkness. "I don't need eyes to see."

"But how can you hear her if she's wearing one of the diamonds—"

Macbeth shoved her forward, against the left wall. "Erik knows what he's doing." _There's no one more reliable than he is._

"I appreciate that," Erik said, in response to the unspoken thought. "Now go get your kid."

"Hey, pointy-ears!" Gajeel said. "Don't die before this best friend shit is settled!"

"Shut up, will you? I can't hear a thing with you roaring like an idiot."

Gajeel smirked before following along the wall.

"I think not," said a hissing female voice. Green eyes glinted in the dark. There was a hiss as snakes lunged to attack the group heading for the stairs.

Macbeth pulled Dreamer against his side and created a reflector shield around them, which he maintained as they navigated the wall.

"Your fight's with me," Erik said, somewhere in the dark.

There was a crash of crates falling as the battle commenced. The group couldn't see what was happening or who was winning. They simply took the opportunity to run toward the stairs, stumbling in the dark along the way.

They tripped up a metal staircase. Piper screamed like a little girl when he touched something slimy on the railing. Macbeth nearly dragged Dreamer by the folds of her dress until he felt a door in front of them. They pushed through and emerged into the first level of the ruins.


	61. Press Forward, To The Tower!

**A/N: I apologize for the slight delay in posting today. Please enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 61: Press Forward, To The Tower!**

Dreamer and company emerged into an empty hall. The distinct sounds of war cries and screaming could be heard beyond the wall. It was reassuring to the group, because it meant that the Excalibur Family was there, backing them up.

"Which way?" Piper asked, while he tore his powder-blue suit jacket and bow tie off. Formal-wear wasn't exactly ideal for battle.

"Toward the tower!" Dreamer answered.

Gajeel sniffed the air again. "I can follow her scent now. That way!"

They ran along the hall. The occasional glimmer of something small and pink on the ground assured them that they were on the right path. Syllest had been brought this way. She had been crying.

"What do you think he meant?" Dreamer asked, as she led the pack alongside Macbeth. "What do you think Jacque meant when he said they'd already started the process?"

Macbeth shook his head.

"It likely means that Resmond has begun the process of activating the Nikolana Device, dear me!"

"I t'ouhgt it was trapped in diamond or something! How's he gonna activate the thing if it's boxed up and sealed tight?"

"It doesn't matter," Macbeth snapped, uncharacteristically loudly. They fell silent behind him. He was right. What mattered was saving Syllestra. The rest was just details.

Another door at the end of the hall opened up into the courtyard of the ruins. They were met immediately by the sight of dozens of people locked in battle before them. Tattooed Excalibur Family thugs were throwing brass knuckles at men bearing black diamond necklaces. It was not just a battle of brawn, either. The undeniable sense of magical energy spiking from both sides filled the air. It was a confusing explosion of noise and violence. The sounds of war.

It took them a moment to orient themselves before Pantherlily pointed to their right. "There's the tower!"

There was an entrance only about thirty yards away, but they'd have to shove through the fight to get there.

"Stay close," Macbeth said, as he clutched Dreamer's hand and began to zigzag through the chaos.

"Make a path!" yelled Terrence Excalibur, as he released an unconscious slave from a chokehold. Within moments, a group of tattooed thugs had pushed the battle to the sidelines, leaving a perfect path toward the tower doors.

"For honor!" Jezran shouted as they pushed through.

"For Family!" came the resounding response.

It was a clear shot. The door, less than thirty yards in front of them, nothing to block their way. And beyond that door was Syllestra—so close and so far from them. Just a little farther…

There was a fluttering of white feathers, followed by the click of heels connecting with stone. She had dropped down from the roof above, to land elegantly in front of them—between them and the door. A tan woman in a dress made from white feathers, cut low on her stomach to reveal excessive cleavage, tattooed wings on her collarbone, and another of the black diamond necklaces, it's evil pendant resting between her large breasts. Her silvery hair was adorned with a blue bow, separating the line of her bangs from the longer part of her hair. A strangely shaped cowlick atop her head resembled a halo.

"Sorano."

"Midnight."

The two of them glowered at one another. Pale purple eyes on swirling red.

"Hey, ain't that one of your old buddies, Mac?" Piper asked. "Maybe she's on our side!"

"No," Macbeth said, never looking away from her. "She's here to stop us."

Sorano cocked her head to the side and shrugged her shoulders. Her blue gloves outstretched toward the sky. "You're not wrong, Midnight." There was the hint of a cruel smirk on her features, but it was tainted with pain—regret.

"Sorano, please let us through!" Dreamer stepped forward, her hand still clenched in Macbeth's. "We have to save Syllest!"

Sorano held up a hand, blocking her line of sight to Dreamer. "Don't waste your energy, sweetie," she said. "I won't be charmed by you."

The two ex-members of the Oracion Seis continued to stare at each other, expressions grim.

"Look at what you did to us, Midnight…" The pain and sorrow was evident in her expression. "You disbanded the Seis. You broke our family." Betrayal in her sneer. Her eyes glistened with tears that reflected years of companionship—years in dark prisons, clutching onto one another as the only life rafts in a sea of despair. It may have been a sorry excuse for a life, but it was spent together, the Oracion Seis invincible, unbreakable. And now… "All for some girl and her surrogate mother?"

"No," Macbeth responded, evenly. He didn't blink, even as a breeze tossed his hair in front of his eyes, simultaneously ruffling the feathers on her dress. "I did it for my freedom."

The woman cringed at his words. She outstretched her arms and kept her expression firm, though tears clung to her long lashes. "I must stand for _my_ freedom. You understand that, don't you, Midnight?"

"What's up with all you crazy chicks thinkin' Res is gonna give you's anything?" Piper interjected.

"Shut up!" Without warning, she'd thrust a ball of white light in his direction. He narrowly dodged. Macbeth didn't even flinch. "The King promised me my freedom! He promised me that I would finally… become an angel." Her palms began to collect light.

"Sorano…" Macbeth took one step forward, his posture rigid, eyes narrowed threateningly. "I don't want to watch you suffer."

She swallowed nervously at the sight of him approaching, his shadow looming forward. It took her back to a time when they lived in cells in an experimental lab—when Zero would pit Midnight against the others to test his strength. The nightmares she'd endured at the hands of her friend…

"But if you continue to stand in the way of _my_ freedom," his voice was a low hiss, "then I'll send you to a place far, far away from any angels."

Sorano took a step back, knowing him well enough to know this was a promise—not an empty threat.

"Macbeth…" Dreamer squeezed his hand. "You can't waste your energy on her. If we find Resmond…"

Sorano held her ground, though she was shaking. "I will protect my freedom just as strongly as you protect yours!"

"Fool!" Macbeth's grip on Dreamer's hand tightened painfully as he bared his teeth at the other woman. "Are you really that stupid? Do you really think your freedom will come from taking away the freedom of others? What about the little girl, trapped in that tower, Sorano? What about _her_ freedom?"

The imagery was meant to bring to her attention more than Syllestra. It was a sickening sense of deja vue, a broken little girl, trapped in a dark tower… She was more than familiar with this story.

Sorano clenched her teeth. "That whelp means nothing to me."

"What if someone said that about your sister?" He snapped back, instantly. "If her life was in the hands of someone like you, would you value that person's freedom like you do yours now?"

Her eyes went wide. The tears finally breached the boundary. "How dare you bring her into this?"

"Move, Sorano," he warned again, "or I will make you relive a nightmare for an eternity, watching poor Yukino die in every way you can possibly imagine—"

Before he could finish, Sorano cried out in surprise. She looked down to find her wrists had been magically bound.

"Ten link chain," Piper said, stepping forward. "I like my odds against this babe."

"Pipe—"

"Go on! Get the hell out of here and save Syllest!" he snapped. He was rolling up the cuffs of his shirt. "I can handle angel-cheeks on my own."

Dreamer watched him for a brief moment, as he approached the bound woman, dice in one clenched fist. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, doll." He pushed Sorano away from the door by the shoulders. "Jus' do me a solid and kick Resmond's ass for me."

Macbeth was already dragging her toward the door.

"NO!" Sorano cried out. Light energy grew around her wrists until the chain broke. She lunged toward the others, but Piper blocked her with his magical roulette table.

"Aw, come on, angel!" he said. "What are the odds you's and me have a real good time together?"

Gajeel smacked Piper on the shoulder as he ran by, silently wishing him the best of luck. Pantherlily flew quickly afterward, leaving Piper and Sorano face-to-face in the courtyard—the battle still raging around them.

Piper watched them leave for only a brief instant, his eyes lingering on Dreamer's dress before its tail vanished in the doorway. Then he turned to face his opponent, putting his back to the door.

"You just did me a favor, doll. I needed an excuse to get the hell away from those two lovebirds, know what I mean? I mean, really? Who the hell holds hands while there's a goddamn war goin' on?"

Sorano did not look the slightest bit amused by Piper's gibes.

"They'll never stop him," she said, darkly. "The King… He's a hundred times stronger than Zero ever was. Not even Midnight stands a chance against him."

"Keep talkin' to me about chances, babe," he grinned toothily at her. "I digs it."

"Tch." She got into a battle stance. "Vermin." A cocky smirk settled on her lips. "I suppose I can't blame you for wanting to die at the hands of a beautiful woman."

His emerald eyes boldly scanned over her chest. "Well hey, there are worse ways to die." He cracked his neck. "But so's you's know, I ain't plannin' on kicking the bucket today."

* * *

 **The Storage Room:**

Two wizards, who specialized in snakes, posed silently in the pitch darkness.

Erik closed his eyes. There was no need for them at all down here. He focused his magical energy on listening. He could hear almost everything. Every creak of floorboards in the building—every scrape of mice paws on stone—every shout, every crunch of bone and splattering of blood from the battle above them. He could hear his friends facing an opponent at the door to the tower. He could hear everything that was not tainted with the dark energy from the black diamonds.

He could not hear Giseld.

Somehow, even her steps were masked by the magic. Her breathing. Her movements in the dark. He could hear none of it. Only when she spoke did he know where she stood.

"Pest," she hissed, dragging out the 's.' "If I didn't have to waste my time playing with you, I could be at my King's side right now…"

He jumped toward her voice, slamming his fist hard through a wooden crate. "That so?" He corrected himself and listened again. To the hissing of the snakes around him. The slithering scales. He could differentiate between the snakes that she'd summoned, and the ones crafted from magical energy. The difference was in the tiny heartbeat, the sound of souls obeying their master.

"I'm his Queen, you know," she pointed out, from the opposite side of the room.

"Could have fooled me." He dodged the strike of a cobra while simultaneously batting three blades out of the air that had been aimed at his head. "I was under the impression you're on the lowest rung of henchmen here."

"Excuse me?!" She hissed loudly, baited into action. She was in front of him instantly, moving to kick his side. He blocked and delivered an elbow to her sternum. She retaliated quickly by scratching her sharp claws across his side, tearing fabric. They leapt away from one another, knocking over boxes in the process. "How dare you suggest that I am anything less than his beloved bride?"

"It's not like I give a shit," he said back, "but I think most men don't send their brides to fight in cold cellars. Shouldn't you be sipping chardonnay on a throne somewhere?"

"The insolence!" Three more knives thrown in the dark.

He could hear the whistle as they sliced the air, and moved easily out of their trajectory. He heard them thud into a crate behind him, splintering wood.

 _This is annoying as hell_ , he thought, as he tried to listen for any sign of where she would strike next. His hearing alone would convince him he was alone in a room full of snakes. It was that stupid necklace.

 _Master, Master. Master. She's our master._

That was all he could hear from the snakes on the floor. A repetitive chorus of servitude. It was just extra noise, distracting him from his primary target.

He grunted in pain as a sharp heel connected with his thigh.

"You wouldn't know the first thing about royalty, you peasant," she snapped.

He heard the snakes slither quickly away from the spot she was going to land. He met her there with another hard punch. They were locked into melee combat yet again, a flurry of fists and kicks in the darkness—knocking over crates and barrels and chairs, slipping on the backs of unfortunate snakes.

"You're right about that," he said, wiping blood from his lip as they parted once more. "And I'm not one to judge your screwed up relationship. If being treated like garbage by a man is what you're into, then you've got it all figured out."

 _Keep her talking. If I can keep her angry and keep her talking, I won't lose her._

"His Majesty is a perfect gentleman!"

He pounced, but was blocked with a hard kick. He took another scratch, to the neck this time, so that he could reach for the necklace he knew she wore. If he could just get it off…

His grip was blind. He thought for a moment that he felt his fingertips meet the chain, so he tried to clasp his hand around it. He was shocked when his palm squished something soft instead.

"AH! What are you doing?! Pervert?!"

A hand smacked him across the face in the dark, making him stumble backward.

"Sorry! I wasn't trying to—I was just—" He flicked his wrist, as if he'd just touched something foul.

"How dare you grope a betrothed woman?!"

"Hey, I wasn't trying to grope you, trust me." An embarrassed scowl touched his cheeks in the dark.

"Are you saying I'm not curvy enough to be groped?" She sounded even more offended by this.

"What the hell? No, I—"

Before he could finish, there was a sharp sensation in his forearm. He cried out in pain as fangs sank deep into his skin. He ripped the snake off of his arm by its tail, causing his skin to tear in the process.

 _Dammit! She tricked me!_

He stumbled back and stepped on another snake. This one sank its fangs into his ankle.

"This is too easy!" Giseld's mocking laugh filled the dark room. "Really, who could possibly stand a chance against all of my pets in an environment like this? You were doomed from the moment you chose to challenge me, peasant!"

Erik smirked through the pain. Then began to laugh.

Giseld's slit eyes gleamed green in the dark. "What's so funny? You've been bitten by two of my most venomous darling pets! You're going to die here, and that's _funny_?"

"You really think a snake bite is going to kill me?" He strode forward, totally unfazed. "You mean you haven't figured out who you're up against, yet?"

He listened to the sound of a snake coiling around something—likely her leg. He leapt forward and this time aimed true. His fingers closed around a pendant on the end of a necklace. She gasped in surprise.

"I'm Cobra, the poison-dragon slayer." He moved to yank the necklace, but she brought her knee up hard into his gut and barely managed to pull away from him before he could tear it away. He flicked his wrist, as if this was only a minor annoyance.

"Poison… slayer?"

"Yeah, that's right." He touched the bleeding wound on his arm. "Which means I'm immune to your 'pets.'"

"You… But—"

"Poison Dragon Scales!" He swung his arms, sending scale-shaped masses of poison in her direction.

 _Now the real fight begins._

* * *

 **A/N: In true Fairy Tail fashion, I had to have at least one scene with accidental boob groping. xD I guess that technically makes two for this fic.  
**


	62. The Blood of Battle

**Chapter 62: The Blood of Battle**

 **The Courtyard:**

In the decrepit courtyard of ancient ruins, a gambling wizard faced off against an angel. They glowered at one another as the battle raged on around them. The Excalibur Family and Resmond's slaves steered clear of the wizards, as if their very presence and the sensation of sparking magical energy was enough to create a wide berth.

"Alright, angel-cheeks, who rolls first?" Piper asked, one hand in his pocket, fist gripped around his signature red dice.

"Don't insult me with your gaudy nicknames," Sorano snapped in response, with one hand resting pompously on her hip. "You are in the presence of a divine being, so watch your tongue."

"Sorry, doll," Piper gave a noncommittal shrug, "I really ain't that good with formalities. Or formal anyt'ing for that matter." As if to back-up his point, he ran a hand through his gelled hair and messed it up.

"I don't have time to waste on a lowlife like you," Sorano put her nose in the air and made to stride past him, toward the door the others had gone through.

"Not happenin,' babe!" He threw a handful of casino chips at her side. She whipped around in time to dissolve them in midair with an orb of white light. She scowled in annoyance.

"You really _do_ want to die by my hands, don't you?" She smirked. "Fine. I'll let Racer and Sânge take care of your friends. I'm not opposed to making you suffer."

Piper's eyebrow twitched. "What is up with you's Oracion Seis bastards and the sadism thing? You's guys musta had really screwed up childhoods."

She narrowed her eyes. "You don't know the half of it."

Piper rolled his dice around in his fingers, and cocked his head to the side. "I swear I ain't tryin' to prolong this thing, but… how's are you going to fight me anyways? Mac told me you's was a celestial wizard, but blondie got your keys. Seems like you're pushing your luck facin' off against a wizard without any real magic, you's know?"

Sorano was clearly offended by the insinuation. Her eyes narrowed and her fingers tapped impatiently on her hip. "Don't mention that blonde bimbo in my presence!" she snapped. "And as for my magic… It's true I was once a celestial wizard. It was foolish, really. That magic never quite suited me—and celestial beings are not as divine as I was lead to believe. No, I've discovered a magic far more fitting for me." Her scowl turned up into a smirk. She held a gloved hand out, fingers outstretched toward the sky. "Would you like a demonstration?"

Piper tensed, but met her smirk with his own. "Ladies first."

"You _are_ a gentleman after all," her smirk widened. Light emanated from the space above her hand as two golden coins materialized in the air. She tossed the coins into the air. "For the cost of twenty, I summon you, Hammer-Angel!"

Piper braced himself and took a step back, as a spirit materialized behind her. It was a tall, muscular man with four arms, a beard and wings. In its right arms it wielded a giant golden hammer. It white eyes glared viciously down at Piper.

"The hell is that thing?" Piper took another step back as the entity lifted the giant hammer.

"He's an angel," Sorano answered, with a tone of reverence. "A pure, divine being, here to wipe away the sin that stands before me."

Piper held his hands up defensively. "Hey, what's this stuff about sin? I ain't a bad guy!"

Clearly, neither Sorano nor her summoned angel cared for his defense. The angel brought the hammer down with massive force, directly where Piper was standing. The blue-haired wizard conjured his magical roulette shield, barely catching the strength of the hit in time. The hammer bore down on the flickering shield as Piper struggled to maintain it—his teeth gritted hard at the effort. The force was enough to shove Piper downward, creating a crater in the courtyard ground. Just before the hammer could crush him, he released the roulette shield and rolled out of the way, barely escaping the blow.

The angel lifted the hammer slowly once more. It prepared to strike again, but not before Piper had thrown a deck of cards in its direction. The cards circled the angel, the numbers glowed bright red, and bullets shot from each of them, barraging the creature from all sides.

There was a strong gust of air as the angel was defeated and transported back to the place it was summoned from. When this happened, Sorano doubled over and cried out in pain.

Piper frowned from the other side of the crater as he watched this happen. "You alright, angel-face?" he called out.

She winced and righted herself. "That is the cost of summoning a holy being into this rotten world," she said, proudly, even though she was panting for breath.

"The cost…" He blinked. "Using your own magic hurts you's, doll?" He wiped sweat from his brow. "That ain't right!"

"I don't need your pity, cretin," she snapped. She leaned on one leg, putting her hand back on her hip, totally casual. "This is a game to you, right?"

He stretched his arm and cracked his neck, limbering up for the rest of the battle. "Evert'ings a game to me, babe."

"In that case," she smirked. "It's your turn."

Piper grinned. "A'right! It ain't often I finds a dame who likes a good gamble." He began to unbutton his dress-shirt.

Sorano raised an eyebrow, a frown settling on her lips at the unexpected sight of him taking off his shirt. "Is it necessary for you to undress?" she said, in a tone of disgust. "Are you that desperate for my attention?"

"Don't flatter yourself, angel-face," he tossed the fabric to the ground. "I'm sick of havin' that fancy material stickin' to me. If you's and me are gonna play serious, I don't need any distractions." He smirked as he pulled out his dice, yet again. "But hey, I won't blame you's if ya need to take off all those itchy feathers. Bet it ain't easy to battle with 'em on."

She raised her eyebrows, pale eyes twinkling with amusement. "I thought you said you don't need any distractions."

Piper laughed. "I like you's, angel-cheeks. I think we're gonna have lots of fun."

With these words, he rolled the dice.

* * *

The remaining group members climbed a stone staircase that would hopefully lead them to the tower. Gajeel insisted that this was the right direction, and the occasional pink teardrop on the ground verified it. Dreamer prayed that Sorano was wrong. She prayed that they wouldn't run into anyone else on their way to save Syllestra. Maybe they would be lucky. Maybe they would take a path that would steer them clear of opposition, they would find Syllest safe and sound, and they would be able to extract her quickly without even seeing Resmond.

She had not, in any way, prepared herself for seeing him again. In fact, the thought of it nearly made her stop running. It nearly made her turn and flee in terror. It would have, if not for the fact that Syllestra was on the line. She would do anything to save her—even face her personal demon once more.

The staircase opened to the left, leading them out onto the wall of the castle ruins. The wall was a straight shot to the tower, though part of it had decayed and crumbled with the wear of time. The moment they stepped out, Dreamer did stop. Her eyes immediately fell to the ground, far below.

Macbeth yanked on her hand. "You don't have time to be afraid, Dreamer," he snapped.

If only it were that easy. She was frozen, every muscle in her body tensing as she stared at the drop. One wrong step and she could fall. The wall could crumble and they could all plummet to the ground.

Macbeth cursed under his breath and suddenly scooped her into his arms. Instinctively, she buried her face into his coat, squinting her eyes shut so that she could imagine they were on solid ground.

He led the pack forward, choosing his footing carefully on the unsteady stone bricks. They made it halfway across the wall, halfway to the door of the tower, when they were stopped yet again.

A figure landed gracefully before them, wings of dripping blood outstretched at his sides. It was a visage Macbeth recognized from a battle not long ago—but there was something different about Sânge, now.

The snowy-skinned man stood tall and elegant as always, his red eyes all consuming. But those eyes did not hold irises of blood, rather, they were complete crimson. No whites, nor pupils. Just pools of red. He wasn't in the refined robes he'd been dressed in before. Now, his torso was exposed, revealing a blood-streaked chest and stomach. And, in the center of his chest, was a jagged hole—as if claws had dug away skin and bone to reveal a gushing chest cavity. In the place where his heart should be, a ruby-like lacrima pulsed. Fleshy tendrils encircled it, glowing brilliantly with every pulse as the stone flooded his veins with magical power. Enchanted blood glowed abnormally as it drained from the wound, staining his stomach and pants with streaks of rouge.

"Who's this asshole?" Gajeel asked, as he stepped forward to stand at Macbeth's side.

"Sânge," Macbeth answered. "The blood-dragon slayer."

Dreamer whimpered, unable to tear her face away from Macbeth's cloak to look at their attacker.

Sânge bowed low. His wings splashed to the ground in pools of blood, which were quickly absorbed back into his body. "I appreciate the introduction, Macbeth." There was the same majestic lull of his voice, but even this was distorted. There was a demonic edge, mixed with the undeniable quaver of excitement. _Bloodlust._

"A dragon-slayer, huh?" Gajeel bared a canine before cracking his knuckles.

Macbeth calculated quickly. He and Jezran were able to pull off a victory against Sânge before, but just barely. And he was tangibly stronger now. His magical power had obviously increased, which meant that Jezran and Macbeth alone could never defeat him. Maybe with the help of Gajeel and Pantherlily they would stand a chance, but… That was time and energy they couldn't afford to waste.

"I am terribly sorry," Sânge said, as he stood upright. "I cannot allow you to traverse beyond this point. Nor can I practice mercy on you or your comrades." His gaze rested solely on Macbeth. "This is my only opportunity to test the limits of my new power—and I am sure you understand, Macbeth, I must reach my fullest potential if I am to achieve my dream."

Macbeth instinctively took a step closer to their enemy, but Dreamer's grip tightened on his coat. He scowled, unwilling to set her down, but also powerless against the threat.

Gajeel strode past him, forcing the other dragon-slayer's attention away from Macbeth and Dreamer. "So, you eat blood?" He folded his scarred arms over his chest. "And I thought the poison-swallower was nasty."

Sânge lifted one of his hands. He drew his fingertips up his own stomach, smearing the blood that streamed from his makeshift heart. He then held those fingertips out in front of him and watched as the blood rose into the air and swirled under his control. "There is nothing 'nasty' about blood, Black-Steel Gajeel. It is the life-force of all living things. It is untainted. It is perfection." He sniffed the air. "None of you are shedding it. Surprising, given that you must have faced Jacque, Giseld, and Angel to have made it this far. But no matter. Your precious blood will be spilled soon enough." The blood he was holding suddenly shot at them in the form of burning bullets.

Dreamer screamed as Macbeth lifted a hand to reflect the blood away from them. Gajeel deflected it with an iron arm. Pantherlily took flight, and Jezran maneuvered quickly out of the trajectory.

"Let me handle this bastard, Beth," Gajeel said, once the attack had ended.

"He'll kill you," Macbeth replied, without missing a beat.

"Nice ta know my best friend has some faith in me," the iron-slayer laughed out loud. "You really think I can't handle this pansy?"

Macbeth deadpanned. He didn't answer for a long moment. He met Gajeel's eyes. The friends shared a long look, unspoken meaning transpiring in the gaze. Macbeth gave a slight nod. Gajeel smirked.

Suddenly, in perfect sync with one another, they both cried out an attack.

"Spiral Pain!" Macbeth twisted his fingers in a crushing motion.

"Iron-Dragon Roar!" At the same time, Gajeel issued a metallic blast from his mouth.

Immobilized by Macbeth's spell, Sânge was unable to evade Gajeel's roar. He took it with full force, and was thrown from the wall, high into the air by a tornado of magical shrapnel.

"Get the hell out of here!" Gajeel gave Macbeth a hard shove in the spine. He repositioned Dreamer in his arms and ran for the door.

"I will stay and fight with you, Gajeel!" Pantherlily declared with absolute loyalty.

"No, Lily! Go with Beth! They might need you to fly them up to the kid!"

"But Gajeel—"

"That kid is first priority, you got it?" he interrupted, harshly.

It took Pantherlily a moment, but finally he nodded seriously. "I have faith in you, Gajeel." Then he started after Macbeth.

Sânge recovered in midair. His blood wings erupted to catch his fall. When the air cleared, he hovered there, without a single scratch on his body. He tucked his wings and lunged for the door to the tower, but Gajeel met him with an iron sword. He swung it like a bat, knocking Sânge back away from the target.

At the doorway, Macbeth glanced back to look at him.

"Gajeel."

"Huh? What's up?"

"Don't die." His lips pulled up in a smirk, though his eyes shimmered with the smallest hint of tears. "We have to practice next week."

Gajeel grinned. "Hell yeah, we do!" Their red eyes gleamed at one another. "Go get 'em, Beth."

With these final words, Macbeth carried Dreamer into the tower. Pantherlily flew in immediately afterward. Jezran paused momentarily.

"His magical energy is flowing from his heart, dear me! If you focus your attacks along the heart meridian, you will render him useless! I recommend the Lesser Sea or Spirit Gate!"

"I don't know what the hell that means, but leave it to me, Pops!" Gajeel braced himself as Sânge dove again. This time, he leapt to meet the blood-slayer with an iron fist, which was caught in Sânge's open hand. Sânge's blood-stained fingertips burned Gajeel's skin, taking him off guard as the white-haired mage swung a kick into his side.

They plummeted back to the wall together and faced off. Blood versus iron.

"I will stain the stones of these ruins with your blood, Black-Steel." Sânge's voice quivered with excitement. "I will prove to Kobolse that I am strong enough. I am strong enough to earn her love!"

* * *

 **The Storage Room:**

"Poison Dragon Scales!" Erik swung his arms, sending scale-shaped masses of poison in Giseld's direction. She cried out in pain as the masses hit her in the dark. The poison seeped into her skin. Now, it was her turn to laugh.

"Foolish peasant!" she cackled. "It stands to reason that I'm immune to your poison as well! My magic will not hurt you, and yours will not hurt me. We are at quite a standstill, aren't we?"

She struck quickly, jabbing the heels of her shoes repetitively into his stomach until he caught her ankle with his hand and yanked. She fell, slamming the back of her head on the stone floor.

"We'll just have to beat the shit out of each other, I guess," he said.

"You shouldn't…" she swiped her foot under his legs, "hit a woman!"

As soon as he hit the ground, snakes coiled around him. Large boa constrictors immediately began to tighten their muscles around his torso and neck. Giseld stood up and brushed her dress off.

"Let's end this quickly so that I can return to my King's side." She lifted her hand and slowly squeezed her fingers into a fist. "Crush him, my pets. Then devour him."

The snakes hissed in response, as they curled even tighter around the man.

"You're kidding me, right?" He scoffed, throat slightly restricted. "Poison-Dragon Roar!" He expelled a gush of poison from his mouth, with enough force to immediately fling the snakes from him. The cloud of poison hit Giseld head on, and she cried out as the force threw her against the opposite wall and she crashed down on a crate.

He listened for her in the dark. Listened as her snakes quickly slithered to her side to check on her—to protect her.

"I can hear them, you know?" He walked carefully forward. "The souls of your 'pets.'" He was baring a sharp canine as he walked, eyes still closed tightly. "They'd serve you loyally even if it killed them. Even though you use them like tools to do your bidding."

"Don't talk about my pets like that!" She hissed angrily, as she got weakly to her feet. "I love them!"

"I'm starting to think you don't really know what that word means," he said, continuing to inch forward. "You love your 'pets' the same way your King 'loves' you." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But like I said. It's none of my business. Poison-Dragon Twin Fang!"

Two waves of poison sliced through the air from his crossed arms. Giseld lifted a hand and blocked the strike with a conjured snake.

"Resmond loves me!" she shouted, hysterically. "I'm his queen! We're going to rule the new world together! The two of us and our princess will be the rulers of a new kingdom!" Her eyes flashed green in the dark room, as she conjured a tiny snake in the palm of her hand, no bigger than her pinky.

"Whatever." Erik continued forward. He heard a tiny rattle from the thing on her palm, but he could not hear her thoughts to know what she was planning.

"You can hear souls, can you?" she hissed, wildly. "Listen to this, then! Rattle my pet!"

The tiny snake lifted its rattle into the air and began to vibrate, with a rattle so thunderously loud that the walls of the ruins shook, crates burst, rubble collapsed from the ceiling.

Searing pain shot through Erik's body. He cried out in agony as the sound ripped through his sensitive ears. It was louder even than Natsu's roar, the roar that had incapacitated him on Nirvana. He fell to his knees and covered his ears but could not ward off the splitting pain. It paralyzed him, and he felt the very real sensation of his eardrums rupturing suddenly, sending another wave of excruciating pain through his body.

The snake stopped rattling and dematerialized in her palm. She stood laughing at the sight of Erik keeled over, completely useless.

"Oh, you poor thing," she mocked. "Your ears are bleeding! I wouldn't be surprised if you could never use them again!"

Erik tried to lift his head, but the agony… Tears streaked his cheeks, an uncontrollable bodily response to the torture. Cold blood drained from his ears, dripping from his chin onto the stone floor.

"Play dead," she lifted her sharp heel and jabbed his forehead. He collapsed onto his side in response, eliciting another loud cackle from Giseld. "My King will be so proud of me! Maybe I'll drag your body up to Sânge so that he can drink your blood. At least you'll have served some purpose then."

Erik couldn't hear her. There was only an endless ringing, ricocheting through his skull. He was deaf to her voice, deaf to anything but the horrible ringing. He wanted to move but couldn't. Even though the rattling had stopped, his body was still paralyzed by pain—pain beyond anything Zero had ever forced him to endure.

 _What if… I never hear_ her _voice again_?

Kinana. Cubellios.

He would rather die than be deaf to that voice.


	63. The Power of a Pure Heart

**Chapter 63: The Power of a Pure Heart**

 **Storage Room:**

The snake-woman flicked her wrist, and all her pets dematerialized, leaving only the two of them in the cold storage room. She stared down at the fallen dragon-slayer in mock pity. "Hmph. Destroying a peasant like you was just too easy." She turned and started for the staircase.

At first, the click of her heels on the stone was quick and purposeful. But halfway to the staircase, she began to slow. Her heels began to drag.

Erik still couldn't hear. The ringing in his head was endless, the pain still searing through his entire body—and yet… he could not contain a smirk. He had calculated this out perfectly, and that meant that just about _now_ , Giseld would begin to fall.

She stumbled. She weakly caught herself, but could no longer stand on her own. She leaned heavily against the wall of the storage room. "What's happening to me?" Her voice was strained, breathing shallow. "I-I feel so weak…" A shudder went through her spine. She tried to take another step, but her quaking knees wouldn't allow it.

"Poison…" Erik laughed weakly. He still couldn't move or hear, but there was pride in the sense that he'd destroyed an opponent. "It's attacking your body like a virus."

"No! That's not possible!" Her palms hit the stone. "I'm immune!"

Erik laughed louder, despite the increasing agony he endured. He wondered if she would ever be able to figure it out—the way he'd bested her. "Poison and venom… are two different toxins." He muttered the words out, but couldn't even hear his own voice.

It had been a gamble. Lying to Giseld. Telling her that he was immune to venom so that she would be careless and he could land a hit with poison. They had suffered under each other's toxins for the duration of the battle—their true enemy, time itself.

"We'll both die here…" Giseld coughed violently. She could no longer sustain her own weight, and slumped against the wall, arms flopping uselessly to the side.

The waves of pain were beginning to drag Erik into brief moments of unconsciousness. He thought of the Tower of Heaven. Of holding his wrist out to his best friend.

 _Come on, Cubellios! Just a little bit of venom! One day I'll be totally immune and I can play with as many snake friends as I want!_

Of course, she'd refused to bite him. Always over-worrying and fussing about his safety, that one. Before and after her transformation.

"No…" Giseld rasped as her limp form sank lower against the wall. "My King… He'll abandon me." The slits in her eyes reverted to normal pupils, as her magic energy depleted.

It had been Zero who injected his body with venom later. After experimenting on him. After countless trips down a hall with blinding light, arms and legs strapped down on a white table. After he'd been matched with the Poison-Slayer lacrima.

 _All so that you will be strong enough to seal him away_ , Brain would whisper, after Zero tortured him.

He could only hope now, that all those endless nights spent screaming and sweating out snake venom were worth something. That somehow, he would survive the assault of Giseld's venom on his body.

 _Sorry for being so reckless, Cubellios_ … He thought passively, as the pain pulled him up to the surface. _Hope you'll forgive me this time._ He smiled. He could almost hear Kinana's voice scolding him for subjecting his body to this kind of torment. He prayed he would hear that voice again…

Finally, he succumbed to the agony. At the same time, Giseld's eyelids fell—and both wizards faded into silence.

* * *

 **The Tower:**

Macbeth stood Dreamer on her own feet once they were safely inside. She got her footing and took several deep breaths. Without a word, she ran forward, where an archway opened into the shaft of the tower. She could feel Syllest's presence. A mother's intuition? Whatever it was, she knew she was nearby.

In the shaft of the tower, the air sparked with intense magical energy, strong enough to prickle their skin as they rushed inside. It didn't take long to identify the source of all that power. There, directly in the center of the shaft, was a massive, white-diamond formation that stood several stories high. The formation was groaning as cracks spread down it, occasionally causing diamond pieces to shatter and fall to the ground below. It was breaking, splitting in half to reveal the device caged inside.

The cracks spread like spider webs through the formation—like cracks on a frozen lake. What was startling, however, was not the sight of this impenetrable diamond breaking. It was the pink sheen of the cracks as they spread—the rose glow of magic.

"Oh, dear me…" Jezran's eyes were turned upward, his head tilted back as he looked up, far toward the top of the tower shaft.

Dreamer's gaze followed.

For a moment, nothing she saw registered. Above the white-diamond formation was black mass. A dark stalactite which came to a point just above the white formation. It pulsed with a sinister magic, absorbing light around it. And rigged to the black diamond was a device, constructed from a combination of metal and diamond. It was through the rods in this device that beams of magical energy were being channeled into the tip of the white-diamond formation.

This slicing beam of light, which was shattering the formation piece by piece, was brilliantly pink. This was because, strapped to the metal rods at the center of the laser device, was a child with raven-black hair.

"SYLLESTRA!" Dreamer's scream cut through the air, louder than the sound of the groaning diamond. Sobs wracked her body at the horror of seeing the girl hanging there, attached to a what looked like a torture device. The girl's eyes were closed, her body limp. Her hair collected static each time the device channeled a wave of her magic into the laser.

She was being used as a battery to charge Resmond's invention. Drained of her magic to unveil the Nikolana Device.

Pantherlily's eyes widened in equal horror. "H-He's doing this… to his own daughter?"

Of course, he was. If ever there were a perfect example of who Resmond was, deep down to his core, _this_ was it.

"SYLLEST!" Dreamer screamed again and ran to the railing. Her hand was outstretched toward the ceiling, toward her daughter, as if by will she could draw her down to the them.

"Pantherlily," Jezran spoke quickly, already rolling up his sleeves. "Will you do me the favor of flying me up to her, dear me?"

"No, take me!" Dreamer cried out in desperation, the tears spilling from her eyes.

Macbeth pulled her back, against his chest. "Not you," he said, harshly. "You're too afraid of heights to be of any use to Syllestra up there."

"That's not true! I can do it! I can save her!" She struggled in Macbeth's grip, but he held firm.

"Dreamer," Jezran gently touched her cheek with his thumb, "it must be me, dear me. It will take precision and focus to detach her from that monstrosity. I am the only one with enough attention to detail to accomplish the task."

"I can't just stand here!"

"We won't." Macbeth's voice was serious and deep against her ear. "We'll find Resmond."

She stopped squirming. Her breath caught in her lungs, and a violent tremor went down her spine. "N-No, I can't… I can't face him."

"Dreamer, look at me." He turned her around and met her gaze. If only he had the same magic as her, then he could calm her down with his swirling eyes. Instead, he willed her to understand. "Once he knows Jezran is stopping his machine, he'll come to stop him. He'll come to hurt Syllest. _We_ have to keep him occupied."

"Macbeth, I…" her eyes shimmered with endlessly flowing tears. "I _can't_ … I can't face him."

"You won't be facing him alone," he reminded her. "Stay by my side. I won't let him hurt you. You don't need to be afraid." For a moment, his eyes sparkled. A smirk tugged on his lips. "I'm the only one you're allowed to be afraid of, remember?"

Impossibly, irrationally, possibly maniacally, she smiled back.

There was a whooshing sound of wings taking flight. She turned back in time to see Pantherlily had already lifted Jezran into the air.

"I suspect Resmond is at the top of the tower, dear me!" The old man called down to them. "It's likely he will be near his device! The staircase behind you should take you there!"

"Get her down from there, Pops!" Dreamer yelled back, her heart aching as she looked again at Syllestra's defeated form.

"You have my word, dear me!"

Macbeth tugged her by the wrist, forcing her to look away. "It will be over soon, Dream." Bloodlust filled his eyes. "Let's go make that bastard pay his debt."

* * *

 **The Courtyard:**

In the courtyard of the ruins, Piper and Sorano continued to stand off against one another. Piper had just survived an attack from Sorano's hammer angel, which meant—according the rules of the game—it was his turn to attack.

"Let's look at my odds!" He rolled his signature red dice on the ground. They bounced three times before the selected dots pointed upward. A six and a three. "Hell yeah, I likes this one!"

Sorano watched with a bored expression, even going so far as to pick a thread off one of her gloves as he continued.

"Hazard: Main Nine," he said. He held out his hands and his dice hopped back into his palm. "Wanna blow on 'em for luck, angel-cheeks?"

"Not in a million years," she said.

"Guess I'll make do." He rolled again, and began to explain the game. "Hazard works like this, see. My main is nine. If I manage to rolls another nine, I nicks, which means I win, angel."

"I'm not interested in your mind-numbing game."

He ignored her completely, as he continued to shake the dice in his cupped hands. "If I rolls a two or a three, an eleven or twelve, I throws out—means I lose. Any'ting else is a chance."

"Just get this over with before I fall asleep," she snapped.

"Alright, doll." He finally tossed the dice, for a three and one. "Well, it ain't winning, but it ain't losing either."

"This game doesn't make any sense," she said, irritated.

"You really ain't ever played Hazard, doll? Man, you's need to get out more." He called the dice back into his palm and shook them. "Hey, you're an angel right? Wanna bless me? Can I pray's to roll another four?"

She scoffed. "The angels would never listen to a sinner like you."

"Again with the sinner stuff! I told you's, I ain't even that bad a guy!" He took a deep breath. "I rolled a four and that's a chance. Let's hope this baby nicks!" Finally, he released the dice for the last time. They rolled down the side of the earlier crater and nestled at the bottom.

A set of two's.

"Nicks, baby!" He fist-pumped. "I win!"

Before Sorano could respond, the dice shot a massive jolt of electricity in her direction. The electricity tore through her body, frazzling hair and feathers all at the same time. She cried out as the force lifted her a few inches off the ground and deposited her into a charred heap. Feathers from her dress floated down on the breeze, burnt black.

Piper frowned and stroked the place where his goatee would usually be (if he hadn't shaved it for the ball). He called his dice back. "Listen doll-face," he took an uncertain step toward her. "I really ain't digging watching you get hurt over and over. You wanna call it good and go get a burger or somet'in?"

Sorano stood. Her dress was in tatters, barely covering the places it needed to cover now. Burn marks scarred her tan skin, but her expression was as hard as ever.

"It's my turn," she said, giving him pause.

"Babe, I really don't—"

"You're not backing out of a game, are you?" she brushed hair from her eyes. "Some kind of gambler you are."

"Hey now!" Piper crossed his arms indignantly. "If you's insist, it's all yours, angel-face. Hit me."

"Oh, I intend to."

* * *

 **The Wall:**

Two dragon-slayers faced off on the crumbling wall of the ruins. Blood and Iron.

Sânge wasted no time. In a flash, he leapt toward Gajeel. It happened so fast, that it was all the studded man could do to defend himself. He lifted his forearms and blocked a series of punches. There was no break in between strikes. Sânge hit him from the front, the side, the back, moving so quickly that it was impossible to discern where the next blow would come from.

 _Damn, he's fast!_

The blood-slayer jumped back and immediately slashed his fingertips forward. "Blood Dragon Claws!"

Slashes of blood shot at Gajeel, who countered with his fists and forearms. He cursed as the blood burned any part of his skin that wasn't protected by iron.

"I cannot wait to taste your blood, Black-Steel," Sânge said excitedly. "I have always wondered what the blood of another dragon-slayer would taste like. I have a feeling that it will be exquisite." His lips were parted, panting in hunger.

This was not the same Sânge who fought Jezran and Macbeth. He was wilder—a blood-drenched beast, ready for its meal.

"Good luck with that," Gajeel responded. "You ain't gonna make me bleed!"

"You are wrong!" Sânge attacked again, this time baring sharpened nails like claws, aiming to rake them through Gajeel's torso. "Your blood will paint this wall!"

Gajeel transformed his arm into an iron rod and punched it into Sânge's gut before he could reach him. The force threw him back.

The iron-dragon slayer's teeth were bared, and he was already forming sweat beads on his forehead.

"Hey, you're a dragon-slayer, right?" he said, as he retracted the iron arm. His tone was curious and casual, as if he wasn't taking the battle seriously at all. "Did your old man take off like mine and Natsu's?"

Sânge stood straight. He cocked his head to the side, even more reminiscent of a beast. His completely red eyes narrowed. The pulsing glow from the hole in his chest quickened.

"What is your meaning?" His distorted voice gurgled when he spoke.

"Igneel and Metallicana, oh yeah and Grandeena too." Gajeel stretched. "They all dipped out on the exact same day. I'm wonderin' if the same thing happened to you."

Sânge blinked, appearing sightless without pupils or irises to mark his gaze. A night breeze swept strands of white hair over his face and shoulders, some sticking to his bloody and sweaty skin. "They all left… on the same day?"

"I'm guessin' you didn't know."

There was a shout from below as an Excalibur cousin brought down another slave.

"Kobolse…" Sânge uttered the name of his dragon. The pulse in his chest quickened again. "She left. I must bring her back! I must prove that I am strong enough to be worthy of her love!"

"Is that what this is about?" Gajeel scoffed. "You're kidnapping little girls so you can look cool for your old lady?!"

"Do not. Speak of Kobolse." Warning gleamed in those eerily red eyes. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers in aggravation.

"Look, Senji or whatever your name is. Me, Natsu, Wendy… We all know how you feel, but you don't see us going around trying to activate weapons of mass destruction and nabbing kids, do ya?"

"This was never about the girl," Sânge snapped. "It was never about the Nikolana Device, and it was never about the King." He dipped his fingers into the gaping wound in his chest, touching the stone there. "This has always been about my mother. All I have ever wanted was this lacrima, that I might be strong enough to bring her back to me."

"Good, then you can get the hell out of here and let us save Syllest!" Gajeel shouted. "You got what you want, so get out of my way!"

Sânge didn't budge. There was still bloodlust in his eyes. The muscles of his chest and abs tensed in preparation.

"I apologize, Black-Steel." He grinned widely, baring overly-sharp canines and fangs. "I cannot pass up this opportunity to test my new strength. Once I have consumed every ounce of your precious dragon-slayer blood… Only then will I consider myself strong enough to seek Kobolse!" His lip trembled, and he cracked his neck as a tremor of excitement climbed his spine. He outspread his arms once more, and the lacrima in his chest glowed brightly against the dark sky.

"This battle… this wall… and you, Black-Steel… This will be my proving grounds!"


	64. Blood and Iron

**Chapter 64: Blood and Iron**

 **The Wall**

Sânge leapt forward at an inhuman speed, right over Gajeel's head. Gajeel braced for a hit, but was surprised by the sensation of the other man's hands hooking under his arms.

"What the hell?!"

Sânge's claws dug hard into his pectorals as he lifted the iron dragon-slayer into the air. Wings of blood struggled to maintain the weight of both of them—nonetheless they rose into the dark sky.

"PUT ME DOWN!" Gajeel flailed helplessly in the grip.

"I intend to," Sânge said, as he rose higher and higher. "Tell me, Black-Steel, have you ever seen a hawk prey upon a tortoise?" Wind buffeted them as they lifted, nearly as high as the tower. "The hawk is wise! It knows it cannot reach the delicious flesh of the tortoise while it is protected by its hard shell. So the hawk lifts its prey into the air and drops it, to shatter the shell and expose the soft flesh beneath." He laughed, a cackling and distorted sound, not too different from the screech of the hawk in his analogy. "Let's see if your defenses break like a tortoise, Black-Steel! If I am particularly lucky, this fall will make you splatter!" He trembled with excitement.

"You're a creepy bastard, you know that?!" Gajeel tore one of Sânge's hands off him, then clasped the other man's shoulder, turning in his hold. Just enough so that the two slayers were face to face, wind whipping black and white hair between them.

"Iron-Dragon Roar!"

Sânge cried out in surprise and pain as he took the metallic blow at point-bank range. His wings were shredded by the tornado of steel, causing both of them to spin to the ground. A cloud of dust and debris exploded into the air when they collided with the earth, beside the wall they had started from.

When the dust cleared, the men faced each other once more. Sânge's face was littered with cuts from the attack, his lip bleeding profusely—his skin shredded by shrapnel. Gajeel popped his shoulder back into place, which had suffered from the fall.

"I ain't a turtle," Gajeel said through heavy breaths.

"So it would seem."

Yet again, no time was spared before the battle raged on. Sânge raised his hands toward the sky. Blood gathered in a cloud above Gajeel, who stared up with an expression of disgust.

"Blood-Dragon Boiling Rain!"

It was the same attack he had used on Jezran and Macbeth—droplets of blood hot enough to burn skin instantly. Only now, with his newly charged powers, the rain was more of a torrential downpour. It showered on Gajeel with such heat and ferocity that steam rose from the earth, shrouding the image of the iron-dragon slayer.

Sânge smirked and lowered his hands. There was no sound from inside the cloud of steam—no denying that his attack had obliterated the other man. He licked his lips in anticipation, hoping to find a pool of blood where Gajeel's body would lay.

But when the mist began to clear, an image stood out starkly against it.

"Impossible…"

Gajeel stood completely unscathed. His skin was solid iron, a protective shell of scales. The few blood drops that continued to fall, plinked uselessly off the metal—unable to penetrate these iron defenses.

"See if you can break this shell, hawk." he bared a canine with a smirk.

Before Sânge could recover from the shock, Gajeel made the next move. He was upon him in a moment, delivering blow after metallic blow. Sânge took the hits like a rag doll, unable to find a moment to defend himself. Somehow, with the growing of these iron scales, Gajeel's strength had increased exponentially. He gripped Sânge's throat with a vice hold before flinging him as hard as he could—directly into the stone wall.

The wall of the ruins crumbled. Mossy bricks and rusted metal collapsed down, crushing the blood-dragon slayer beneath them. The collision caused the entire structural integrity of the wall to deteriorate. It fell apart in a domino effect, scattering dirt into the air.

When the dust cleared, there was no movement. The last of the fallen stones rolled into place. There was silence.

"Cocky bastard," Gajeel grumbled. He waited—eyes trained on the unmoving pile of rubble. After a moment, he took a heavy step forward.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over him, along with the swoosh of air that accompanied flight. He jerked around in time to see a pair of blood wings folding down against a snowy white back.

"Good, he's running away." Gajeel scoffed. That saved him a lot of trouble. Now he could go be by Macbeth's side while they faced Resmond.

He watched Sânge a moment longer. Watched as the blood-slayer surveyed the battlefield below him. And as Gajeel watched, he felt a rock drop into the pit of his stomach, the moment he realized…

"Shit."

Sânge had lunged directly into the battling crowd of slaves and thugs. The spilled blood from the fight that had seeped into the earth, all began to rise from the ground. The wounds of the fighters drained as well, all collecting into a floating pool of red.

Then there was the unmistakable gurgle of a dragon-slayer having a meal.

Slaves and thugs alike screamed in terror and ran. When Sânge had eaten his fill, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and rose back into the air.

"Yes!" He roared into the night sky, arms outstretched. "I can feel the life-blood flowing through me! Great lacrima, lend me the strength of Kobolse! Lend me the power of a blood-dragon!"

The lacrima in his chest cavity flashed a blinding red light. A thick gush of blood poured from the wound, to be swept into the air around him. It swirled like a tornado, slowly, then faster, cloaking his visage in an orb of spinning red. A raptor-like screech erupted from within the whirling cocoon—an agonized, demonic cry.

The blood tornado stopped spinning all at once. The collected blood dropped, splattering the ground below. Now, revealed under the harsh light of the cold moon, was Sânge.

If _it_ could be called Sânge.

The newly emerged demon that now hovered before Gajeel could hardly be considered human. It was grotesque—a skinless beast, raw and red. Pulsing tendrils, veins, arteries, stretched from the glowing lacrima in his chest. Purple scales were scattered unevenly over his dripping form. From his head rose two spiraled horns. Four elongated, razor sharp fangs and canines jutted from his bared teeth. Thin red mist surrounded him. His eyes glowed as sharply as the lacrima, pulsing ominously in sync with one another.

"This is my new form, Back-Steel." His voice was hellishly distorted, deep and twisted like the guttural sound of devil. "The Ultimate Blood Dragon."

* * *

 **The Courtyard**

Piper stood back, waiting for Sorano to make her next move. She took a deep breath and lifted her hand into the air. Shimmering light came from her palm as coins materialized again.

"For the cost of thirty, I call upon you, Barakiel!" She shouted toward the stars. "Eradicate this repulsive mortal with your holy light!"

Piper shielded his eyes as her next angel appeared. It was a three-headed being with wings, completely white and shrouded in blinding light. The angel gathered an orb of the light in front of it, before sending it forth in a massive wave.

The light was so strong, that its effect was physical. Piper cried out as the burst burned his skin and sent him flying back. Even with his eyes closed and guarded by his arms, it felt as though his pupils were melting. When the attack was over, he couldn't see. He couldn't move for pain.

Surprisingly, his cry of pain was matched by a scream from Sorano, released when her summoned entity returned to the place from whence it came. When Piper had finally gathered himself enough to stand, he winced and opened one eye slightly, trying to focus on her through a sudden migraine.

"Every time one of those angels leaves, you's get a hell of a shock, don't you's?"

Sorano panted slightly, but righted herself quickly, maintaining a posture of arrogance. "I am being purified by the holy beings. The transformation into an angel, the eradication of sin, it is a painful process."

He gritted his teeth, and fought to open both eyes. "Not'in you say makes sense, you's know?" He brushed dirt off of his pants.

"It's your turn," she snapped. "Hurry up. You're wasting my time." She huffed. "Typical selfish man."

"Typical naggy woman," he said right back. He blinked several times, finally able to see her as more than a gray blob in his vision. "Goddamn, you're as bad as my ex-fiancé." He rolled his dice around in his palms once more.

" _You_ had a fiancé?" She threw her head back and laughed out loud. The halo shaped cowlick bobbed in the air. "A degenerate like you? I don't believe it."

"Hey!" Piper crossed his arms over his bare chest. "I don't know what 'degenerate' means, but I ain't lying! Damn, am I really that unattractive?" His bottom lip jutted in a pout as he unfolded his arms and glanced down at his torso and defined muscles. "I gots an eight pack, lady! Is it my face? You's sayin' I gotsa ugly mug?"

Sorano's eyes twinkled in amusement. "You're a mortal man, which means you're ugly down to your rotten soul. I will cleanse you of your transgressions."

"Cleanse me? What, like you's gonna get in the shower wit' me and scrub me down? Geez, angel-cheeks, we ain't even had that burger yet!"

"Repulsive," she rolled her eyes. "Take your turn before I grow bored."

"A'right!" He rolled the dice. They bounced once and landed on a four and a three. "Seven! That means we gets ta play the shell game!"

A table materialized in front of him. On it were three red cups. He picked them up one at a time to show her they were empty, before he slid one of his die under the middle cup.

"Watch closely, doll. If you's pick the right cup at the end, you's avoid the penalty."

She yawned dramatically.

Piper began to shuffle. He started off slow, then picked up speed until his hands were moving at an insane rate. Finally, he stopped and met her eyes. "Which cup has my die, babe?"

Sorano gave a heavy sigh. She went as far as to pick at a burnt spot on her glove before bothering to glance back up at him. "Do you take me for a fool?" She raised her hand and flicked her wrist to point at his pocket. "You cheated. It's right there."

"Good eye, doll…" He winced, then tensed his body as if in preparation for something. The table and cups dematerialized, and Piper was suddenly struck with the same kind of electric burst he'd hit her with before.

"Hypocrite!" she accused sharply, after the lightning had deposited him back on the ground. "You dared to lecture me about being injured by my own magic?"

"Hey…" he coughed, on all fours. "In all fairness… That's the only dice roll I gots that kicks my ass…" he tried to stand, but fell back to his knees. "And it's… worth the risk."

"I hope it was worth signing your death wish," she raised her hands again. "My angel, strike this man down!"

A ghost-like creature with no eyes, blue lips, and rows of sharp teeth, soared from the sky to hit Piper directly in the chest. The blow threw him several feet back, causing him to cough up blood. It left him even worse for wear, tattered and bruised on the ground.

"Damn…" He groaned in pain.

Sorano smirked sadistically down at him, but then gasped as sharpened casino chips sliced through the skin of her stomach.

"Y-You cheated!" She touched her bleeding side.

"Did not." He stood, leaning heavily on one leg, and clutching a now useless arm. "It was my turn, angel-face."

"Fine!" Her pale eyes began to look wild. She gritted her teeth, eyes flicking up and down her opponent's burnt and broken body. "It's time to finish this!" She put her hands together in a prayer, summoning light and coins once more. "For the cost of 100, I summon Raguel!" She tossed ten coins in the air.

Piper closed his eyes, bracing for the potentially fatal attack that he knew he was too weak to avoid.

But instead of an angel appearing, the coins flickered out. Sorano's high pitched scream echoed off the walls of the ruins. She was being jolted by another zap of agony, delivered by the unholy magic she wielded. She writhed in pain, arched her back, completely helpless until the burst receded.

"I—I don't understand! I didn't have enough magical energy to summon you? Am I still not yet worthy?!" Tears rolled down her face—brought on by the pain or by the betrayal, it was unclear.

Piper gritted his teeth and rolled his dice again. His odds had been dramatically decreased since her attack. He only managed to roll a 3.

"3-Match Payoff."

Sorano stared up in horror, completely unable to protect herself from whatever this attack would be. Her knees shook and she fell to them, succumbing to both weakness and fear. Bright lights flickered all around her—the chaotic sound of winning slots—flashing neon lights. She waited for pain, the finishing blow.

But it never came.

An arm closed around her. She gasped at the unexpected sensation. The lights stopped flashing, the confetti settled around them. She blinked to make sense of it, of this enemy wizard on his knees at her level, his uninjured arm closed around her in a near crushing embrace.

Their magical energy was totally depleted, their bodies physically exhausted. All Piper could do, was grab onto her, and collapse with her to the ground.

"Well… damn." He lay panting, still wincing in pain—his arm was still tucked around her.

"Get your filthy hands off of me," she snapped, but weakly. She made no effort to roll away from him. Her body was useless. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was thinkin' I'd knock you out once I got over here, but…" he chuckled and dropped his good arm to the dirt. "I ain't the kind of guy who could knock an angel like you's out cold, you know?" He grunted as another fresh wave of pain came from somewhere in his chest. "That and, I'm just too damn weak to do anything else. You's got me good, angel-face."

Sorano put the back of her hand to her forehead, her face toward the stars. Her lip quivered as tears rolled down her cheeks, trailing down to her ears before nestling in strands of white hair. "Raguel… rejected me." She shuddered violently. "All I want… is to fly away. I just want to become an angel…"

"Yo…" Piper smiled wanly at her. "This is just the opinion of a degenerate sinner, but…" his emerald eyes sparkled. "You's already look like an angel to me."

Sorano blinked at him, pale-purple eyes as wide as saucers. With a strangled sob, she suddenly threw her arms around him and wept against his bare chest. He awkwardly patted her back.

"Damn… If Cana finds out about this, I'm a dead man."

Neither of the two wizards could go on. After a moment like this, laying on top of one another in a battle-scarred courtyard, they were both overtaken by unconsciousness.

* * *

 **The Tower**

"Are you ready, Jezran?" Pantherlily asked, as he held the old man over the metal walkway that led to Syllestra.

"Yes, dear me!"

Pantherlily released his hold, dropping Jezran onto the walkway. The man ran the remaining few steps to the child. His face blanched at this up-close view of her. He sent a silent prayer of thanks that Dreamer was not here to see this. It would have been too much to take. In fact… it was almost too much, even for him—a man who had seen many a disturbing thing in his years of life.

Her hands were strapped to a metal rod. Needles, at the ends of thin cables, pierced her wrists. Strings and electric components were attached to stickers on her skin, an IV penetrated her arm. And all around them was the static sensation of thick magical energy, as the black diamond absorbed her magic and channeled it through rods into the laser mounted on it.

"My dear Syllest…" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. He rose a hand to brush a strand of black hair away from her pale face. When he looked at her, he remembered a toddler in an alleyway—bright pink eyes looking up at him… He would see to it that those eyes opened again.

He scanned her over several times. The cogs in his brain spun and worked, as he tried to understand the function of this device, what each piece served for, and as he calculated how to remove her from its mechanical grip without killing her.

There was a particularly loud groan from the white diamond. A gigantic shard of it cracked and split off the side, revealing the entire right half of the Nikolana Device.

"Can you get her out?" Pantherlily asked from behind him.

"Yes. But it will be difficult, dear me. The dark magic in Resmond's diamonds is… it is as if it is hungry. As if it thinks for itself. It will not be willing to release its food source so easily."

"I've got your back," Pantherlily promised, as Jezran finally stepped forward, and pulled a knife out of his pocket.

"I can clip these wires, but first I must disable the electric current running through this part of the—"

Pantherlily looked down at the cracking diamond as Jezran mumbled under his breath. The diamond gave another loud crack as a chunk fell off. A few more shards of that size, and the device would be completely exposed.

The exceed narrowed his eyes at a shape on the ground below. It looked as though someone was approaching the Nikolana device. Someone who clearly did not comprehend that standing under a fracturing diamond was a death wish. He closed one eye as a shard of diamond plummeted toward the person. Instead of being hit, however, there was a flash of black, as the figure dodged the shard with inhuman speed.

"Jezran, it appears we have company." Pantherlily's tail twitched. "Can I leave you hear to free Syllest?"

"Yes, dear me. Do not allow whoever it is to do anything to the device, Pantherlily." Jezran's lips turned into a mustached frown. "The result of this device being activated would be cataclysmic."

"I understand. Best of luck, old friend."

The black exceed dove off of the metal walkway and tucked his wings to dive toward the figure below. He landed on a hunk of diamond, several yards away from the figure.

"You there! What do you think you're doing?"

The man in front of the device was tall and gangly, in a skin-tight black suit and glasses, with electric yellow hair atop his head like lightning bolts. Yellow lines on his black suit resembled the lines on a magi-vehicle racer.

"None of your business, pussy-cat," the man sneered, lip pulling back under a sharply pointed nose.

"Do you intend to activate the Nikolana Device?" Pantherlily asked, little paws crossed over his chest.

"Maybe I do. What are you going to do to stop me? Scratch me?"

Pantherlily narrowed his eyes. He uncrossed his arms and began to morph into battle-form. His opponent was clearly not expecting this, by the furious scowl that followed.

"I will not allow you to activate that monstrosity," Pantherlily declared, as he wielded his red blade. If you so much as move an inch, I will stop you."

The man smirked.

"If you can catch me."

* * *

Up, up, up, up the stairs—endlessly.

"Macbeth, what if something goes wrong? What if they can't get her off of that thing?"

Macbeth narrowed his eyes and tugged her harder in response. "Shut up, Dream. She's going to be safe. You have to focus on our task."

She nodded, though the thought of what lay ahead made her stomach churn. Part of her wished these stairs _would_ last forever. Then she would never have to face him.

At long last, they reached the top of their ascent. Before them was a long hallway. There was only one door, far at the end of the hall—and it was cracked open, inviting them in. Welcoming them to the final confrontation.

Dreamer looked at him one more time. Her lips trembled. Tears shimmered under rosy-pink irises. Macbeth looked back at her, sharing a final moment—one last pocket of peace, the tiniest splinter of time. He squeezed her hand once more, both to remind her that he was there—he hadn't let go, and to burst the pocket, shatter the splinter. They nodded, agreeing to the unspoken contract. They would fight this demon, and all of Dreamer's internal demons, together—hand-in-hand. Two strangers, bound by fate from the moment she'd dug him from the wreckage of Nirvana, now joined together for this common cause—as teammates, as friends… Joined together by the wood of time, a bit of charm magic, and love.

Macbeth and Dreamer held their breaths as they ran to the end of the hall and through the open door…

To face Resmond, The King of Diamonds.


	65. We Meet Again, Dreamer

**Chapter 65: We Meet Again, Dreamer**

 **The Tower**

The man dubbed "Racer" cracked his neck as he faced off against a battle-form Pantherlily. "How about a game of cat and mouse?" he asked. "Catch me if you can, kitty!"

He was gone in a flash. Pantherlily struggled to keep an eye on him as he danced on the outskirts of his vision, darting to and fro in a large circle, as if taunting him. Lily tried to calculate his next moves but he'd never seen speed like this.

"Lookin' for something, pussy-cat?" Sawyer was suddenly right behind him. Pantherlily roared and swung his sword over his head, but the slow, brutish movements didn't stand a chance against his opponent's speed. By the time his sword impacted with the ground, Sawyer was already behind him again, landing a heavy kick to his side. "Better watch out!"

Sawyer quickly distanced himself from the exceed, who realized at the very last moment that the shadow of a diamond shard had eclipsed the light. He rolled to the side, barely missing the sharp object's collision.

 _This is bad… I have to be aware of both where his attacks are going to land, and of the diamonds falling… My usual strategy isn't going to work on this enemy._

"Just what do you hope to achieve?" Pantherlily asked, as his opponent continued to run circles around him. "If you let Resmond activate that device, it will cause an earthquake that could destroy the entire continent! And you're okay with that?"

"If it means I get my freedom, then I could care less," Sawyer answered with a cocky smirk.

"Freedom?" Pantherlily dodged a smaller piece of falling shrapnel. "You… You're one of Macbeth's old guild mates, aren't you?"

He grimaced at the mention of the name. "That was an old life, pussy-cat. Midnight got his freedom, and now it's time for me to get mine."

Above them, Jezran was still carefully at work setting Syllest free. He wiped sweat from his brow. It was almost finished. All that was left to do was to detach her hands from the metal rod they were tied to, and remove the needles penetrating the skin there. While, at first glance, this might seem to be the easiest task of all—it was in fact the most dangerous. He had deduced that the fixtures on her wrists were the exact location from where the diamond was drawing magical energy to power the machine.

"Pericardium 7…" he released a long breath as he remembered back to his training, to his days learning the unique tracking abilities he'd mastered. He knew that these particular pressure points in her wrists were directly linked to the walls of her heart. That was the route her magical energy was taking to be absorbed by the black diamond.

"If I detach her while the diamond is still absorbing her energy, I could cause a discharge in magical energy to backfire directly into her heart, dear me…" He wiped a tear from his cheek. "And she will die."

He stared helplessly at the child, at her small, pale face and long eyelashes. A being so pure and strong-willed, that she had helped turn the dark heart of a thug into that of a teddy bear. More tears fell as he cupped her round face.

"Mavis, lend me your wisdom," he begged through a broken sob. "Give me an idea, dear me… Please, help me save my sweet granddaughter…"

His eyes opened wide.

"Yes. Yes, that is the only way, dear me…"

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He felt the dark pulsations of the black diamond—as steady as a heartbeat. The influx of magical energy with each pulse, and the pause between them, as the magic was channeled into the laser. With steady hands, he reached for his gold tie—the one that he chose to compliment Dreamer's gown at the ball. To think, the festivities would end like this…

He removed his tie clip, then opened his eyes to examine in. He couldn't help but chuckle as he slid a thin blade out from the backside of the clip. Some habits never died, and keeping one or two hidden weapons on an Excalibur prince's person at all times, was one of them.

Carefully, with the precision of a surgeon, he clipped the tie clip onto the needle nestled in Syllest's left wrist. Then, he sent a silent prayer to the heavens before pressing his own palm onto the blade.

He felt it almost immediately. The unmistakable sensation of magic being sucked from his energy channels with every pulse of the diamond. It was slight—akin to the tug of a toddler's hand on one's pinky when she desperately wanted to show him the monkeys at a parade.

Now that he was sure the diamond was absorbing his energy, he waited for a pause in pulses, and plucked the needle from her wrist. The tug grew stronger. This was more like the insistent pull of a teenager on one's sleeve, as she begged him to join them for ice cream.

There was a grumble from the diamond mass above him. Something that could only truly be described as a growl. A growl signifying that the creation recognized the presence of an incompatible magic. To further prove this, the laser flickered slightly.

Resmond had designed the machine to channel pure diamond magic—not the tracking magic of an old man.

Jezran untied her hand, and stabilized her body slightly with his knee, as she slumped—now attached by only the right hand.

This was the tricky part.

"Pantherlily!" he called down to the exceed.

"Little busy down here!" came the responding sound and grunt as Pantherlily was hit again.

"You must catch her!"

"You got it!" His wings unfolded and he leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding a strike from Sawyer.

Jezran focused, and closed his eyes again. "The Tracker's Salvation: Disguise."

He'd always been fond of this spell. It temporarily erased all traces of magical energy from its target, making them impossible to detect based on magical signature alone. He smiled at another memory. He was a much younger man, then—reckless and mischievous and wild. He could still perfectly remember the look on Porlyusica's face when he used the same spell to sneak into her home late one night. The burn scars on his shoulder from a pot of boiling potion remembered, too.

He erased all traces of Syllestra's magical energy from the remaining needle. The black diamond groaned louder in protest and, as expected, began to channel even more from Jezran to make up the balance. He pulled the second needle out as quickly as he could, and untied her hand. It was all he could do before the pain, but it was enough.

The tug was now a yank—the sensation of a terrified young woman, desperately pulling her surrogate grandfather's hand as they drove forward to rescue a child. The same child whose body now dropped and slumped off the metal walkway before tumbling through the air. He was powerless to catch her while his tie clip and the needle had him bound to the dark machine.

The laser flickered again, as it positioned itself on the very last chunk of white diamond encasing the Nikolana Device.

Resmond's diamond roared once more, as if furious to find it had been duped. Enraged that it was no longer consuming the pure magical energy of its creator's offspring. Upon this realization—or perhaps, just as a mechanical response to being fed the wrong battery source—the diamond discharged, and the machine backfired.

The surge shot directly through Jezran's palm, bursting into his energy channels with vicious ferocity, down to his lower back.

Pantherlily swooped and caught Syllestra gently in his arms. "I've got you." He looked up at the walkway, an ear twitching as Jezran's howl of pain ricocheted off the tower walls. "Jezran!" he yelled up to the old man.

There was no response. Only the hiss of the machine's laser as it struggled to muster enough strength to make the final cut on the white diamond formation.

There was one last cracking groan. The laser flickered out. The machine's buzzing stopped. The last piece of protective casing on the Nikolana Device stood firm.

…but slowly, a spider web of pink cracks split through it. The tower echoed with the strange moans of the mineral breaking. Slow creaking, a sound like ice splintering on a frozen lake. Time, waiting to see if the cracks would stop spreading or…

Shatter.

The final piece of white-diamond formation exploded into a sparkling dust. It drifted like sparkling fairies to the diamond covered floor below, lightly dusting the now exposed Nikolana Device. It stood in its full splendor—a towering machine and drill used to shake the earth, seemingly untouched by time—preserved perfectly by diamond until the moment for it to be unveiled.

"Finally."

Pantherlily looked back down. "No!" Sawyer was running to the device. Pantherlily made to stop him, but he paused to hover in midair when her remembered the precious cargo he was holding. "Don't do it!"

Sawyer looked up at him with a wide smirk. "Better fly high, cat. The ground's about to be a dangerous place." With these words, he began to pull a series of levers. Within moments, this ancient device began to whir to life.

Pantherlily shook his head. His first priority had to be to get Syllestra to safety. He bared his teeth in frustration, then swooped up toward the walkway. "Jezran!"

The old was on his knees. His skin was pale, his eyes colorless. He looked tiredly at Pantherlily holding Syllestra.

"Syllest… My dear, granddaughter…"

 _It was approximately 1:00 AM, in the south-east district of town between Cherry Grove street and Mella Avenue. It was a brisk night, possibly between fifty-seven and sixty-two degrees farenheight. The alleyway was located between an abandoned sewing facility and a bakery… A toddler, no more than two years of age, wandered into the alley…_

 _She looked up at me with the biggest eyes. Eyes that knew nothing of blood, or debt, or honor. Eyes too young to know the tragedy that surrounded her._

 _Following her almost immediately, was a girl. She was no more than a child, herself. Fifteen years of age—far too young to be caring for a toddler alone. Far too young to be as gaunt, hungry, and dirty as she was._

 _How I have loved you, Syllestra. Dreamer. Dear me, how I have loved you._

His eyes lingered on that small face. A mustached smile flitted on his lips when he saw her mouth part just slightly, so that she could breathe.

She was breathing. She was alive. She was safe.

He had paid his debt.

Down below, the Nikolana Device whirred with energy. White-diamond dust settled on the ground. The hum of the great machine masked the tiny sound of metal plinking on stone. The white glitter snuffed the golden sheen of a small tie clip as it settled between two shards of diamond—refracting light for only a brief moment before the reliable old blade faded from sight, forever to remain in this… its final resting place.

* * *

 **Near the Wall**

Sânge's new form eclipsed Gajeel, floating between him and the moon above. The red mist that surrounded him made the moon appear bloody.

Gajeel could feel the dramatic increase in magical energy in the area. It was suffocating. It was enough to make him nervous—and not many things could make him nervous.

"So, what if you got uglier?" He shook off the moment of uncertainty. "You still won't be able to break _my_ iron!"

He leaped to meet Sânge in the air, and was met immediately with blood-soaked claws. Claws that raked across his chest, from shoulder to hip, tearing clothes. Gajeel caught himself and landed back on the ground, skidding back a few feet in the dirt.

"Didn't I just tell you? You'll never cut through my iron!"

"Oh?" Sânge's demonic, sharp-toothed smile spread wide. He ran a forked tongue over his lips.

"What are you staring at, assho—"

The pain was delayed. In fact, it wasn't even the pain that made him look down. It was the uncomfortable sensation of something wet sliding below his beltline.

"What the hell?" He touched his chest, where deep gouges had torn through his iron scales like tissue paper.

He was bleeding.

"At long last, the taste of dragon-slayer blood!" Sânge dove again. He moved even faster than before—too fast for Gajeel to defend himself. It was a flurry of claws. They ripped through his arm, his thigh, his back. His scales did nothing to stop them. Nothing to protect him.

 _I can't get a single hit on him now! Damn, this doesn't look good!_

Sânge shoved him down by the shoulders, effectively pinning him to the ground. Gajeel cried out as his claws sank below his collarbone, piercing him like stakes to the earth. He stared up at the horrific face of the Ultimate Blood-Dragon. Sânge's lips parted with desire, his breathing was rapid, the bright pulsing of the lacrima in his chest was a stampede. His face hovered just above Gajeel's chest, and he began to draw the iron-slayer's blood into his mouth.

"GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!" Gajeel flailed for a moment, but the strength of the blood-slayer was impossible. Once he'd drunk his fill, he released Gajeel of his own volition, stepping back casually to wipe his lips. He left Gajeel feeling faint and tingly from blood loss, but still able to stand.

"Delicious…" Sânge licked his claws. "That was… euphoric. Such strong lifeblood. Ah, if only I could bottle you up, Black-Steel, and keep you as a nearly endless source of quality blood!"

"You know, I haven't run into many bastards who were quite as freaky as you," Gajeel squared his shoulders and stood tall, despite the weakness that settled in his muscles. "And that ain't a compliment."

"I am going to kill you now, Black-Steel." He lifted a clawed hand into the air. "With what blood you have left in your body; I will end you. Fear not, I do promise not to let a single drop of your delectable blood go to waste. Once you are dead, I will consume it all."

He closed his eyes and formed a ball of blood in his palm.

"This is the strength of an ultimate slayer! Ultimate Blood-Dragon Barrage!"

Gajeel cried out in agony as the cuts on his body began to burn. He fell to his knees. "What the hell are you doing to me?" It felt as though he were being torn to pieces from the inside, like a magi-bullet was ricocheting through his veins.

"I have commanded your blood cells to attack you from the inside! Haha! That sweet blood will be the death of you!" He extended his hand. Blood mist surrounded Gajeel. It slipped into his cuts to aid the work of his own blood against him. An internal barrage.

Gajeel fell. His fingertips gripped the soil. He cried out as wave after wave of pain seared through him.

"Stop fighting, Black-Steel. Just let go. Let the blood flow through you!"

"Dammit! Not on your life!" he forced himself back up to his knees, though the assault continued. He coughed up blood. "I'm not going down that easy! Beth… needs me! As long as my friends need me, I'm not going to be killed by some low-life vampire like you!"

"Vampire?" Sânge threw his head back and laughed out loud. "Do not insult me, Black-Steel! I am no simple-minded demon! I am Sânge, the Ultimate Blood-Dragon Slayer, son of Kobolse!"

Gajeel gritted his teeth. He fought so hard to stand. He pushed with everything he had. But his knees shook… His head spun… He fell again.

This time, he did not rise.

* * *

 **The Top of the Tower**

The room Macbeth and Dreamer entered into was above the main shaft of the tower. Some of the old pieces of metal and brass scattered to the side of the room indicated that perhaps this was once a clock-tower. Now, it was nothing but discarded stone and metal, a base of operations for the man who called himself King.

He was waiting for them. His back was turned, his hands clasped behind him. His raven-black hair hung down his long torso like a waterfall on a moonless night. One long strand of yellow was the electric bolt in a black, storm-ridden sky.

Dreamer's legs froze the moment she saw him. She stood rooted to the spot, staring at the silhouette of the man of her nightmares before her.

"Hello."

His voice was exactly as she remembered. Incredibly deep, rhythmic, lulling. The thunder in the storm. It sent a tremor of fear down her spine. Macbeth didn't pull her forward. He stood at her side, hand still clasped around hers.

Resmond turned to face them. It was one, fluid movement. He did not change his posture or move his hands. Now he stood like a statue before them, at least a half-a-foot taller than Macbeth. He looked them over with expressionless yellow eyes before his gaze rested on Dreamer. Her breath caught in her lungs, her legs shook.

"We meet again, Dreamer." He was so casual, as if they were old friends reuniting after a long time—not as if he was the monster who murdered her sister, who took everything from her, who forced a thirteen-year-old girl to live on the streets with a baby—that same baby whom he'd strapped to a device just below them.

"Look at you," he cocked his head to the side. "You've grown up. You look just like Rosy."

Dreamer swayed. Macbeth stabilized her. His red eyes swirled with mysterious and intense emotion—a cold yet blistering fury directed toward the man before them.

"And Macbeth." Resmond blinked. "I'm kind of tired of telling people to kill you." He gave a heavy sigh, as if Macbeth's presence were a huge nuisance.

"So, you're Resmond?" Macbeth responded. His eyes flashed in warning, in hunger for battle. "I was expecting someone more threatening."

"M-Macbeth you can't… You can't talk to him like that!" Dreamer whimpered next to him. "Y-You… He'll…"

" _This_ is the guy you're so afraid of? It's laughable."

"Night Terror." Resmond blinked again, he made no other motion. "You are here to kill me, kidnap my daughter, and disable Diamant Blanc's sacred device, am I correct?"

"I'm here to listen to a lullaby of pain as I send you through every level of hell into an eternity of suffering," Macbeth clarified. His threat didn't seem to concern Resmond in the slightest.

"What are you here for, Dreamer? Do you also intend to kill me?"

Dreamer swallowed nervously. She thought of Syllestra below them. She thought of Rosy. Her hand clenched into a fist and she managed to stand on her own strength. "Y-Yes." She cleared her throat and met his gaze—looked into those haunting electric eyes. "I'm here to make you pay your debt to this family."

Resmond sighed again. "Family? Are we not family? I _am_ your brother-in-law; you know…"

"You're nothing but a murderer!" Her voice was strained from choked tears, and she couldn't stop shaking.

"I… can't argue with that." His hands finally dropped from behind his back.

Resmond took a step forward, as black magic circles formed on his palms. "Dreamer, can I ask you a personal question?" Another step forward, his visage like something from her deepest, darkest fears.

"Do you scream like Rosy? "


	66. And Then There Were Three

**A/N: I apologize for the delay in posting a couple of these recent chapters. It's not that I don't have them written (I have everything but the last part of chapter 75 finished already), so you don't have to worry about me totally flaking out. I've just been editing these final chapters an extra time before publishing them, to make sure everything runs smoothly into the ending. So, I've been editing (particularly Sange and Gajeel's fight), while traveling for the summer, and fighting illness the past couple of weeks. Hence the delay! Thank you for being patient with me, friends!**

* * *

 **Chapter 66: And Then There Were Three**

"Do you scream like Rosy?"

Resmond advanced. Macbeth braced himself to fight, muscles tensing in anticipation—but Dreamer held up her hands.

"Wait!" she cried out.

Resmond paused. He blinked at her, some curiosity etched onto his features.

"I…" she tried to meet his eyes, but… All she could see were slicing yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness—unremorseful, uncaring—as she held the body of her sister in her arms. "I just want to know why…" Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I want to know why you did it? Why you killed her!"

He blinked again, his face giving away no emotion.

"Are you sure you want to know, Dreamer?" The black magic circles still shone in his palms. "You won't like my answer."

"I need to hear it!" She clenched her fists, tightening her grip on Macbeth's hand, to stop her own from shaking. The fact that he was still there, holding onto her, supporting her, gave her the boost of courage to continue. "I need to know!"

Resmond gave a heavy sigh, as if it was a true burden to answer her. "It's not complicated." Long, dark eyelashes fluttered for a moment in thought. "I just… wanted to."

"You… _wanted_ to?" She stared down at the toes of his perfectly polished boots.

"Yes. I woke up one morning and I wanted to know what it would feel like to kill her."

She bit her lip and choked on a sob. Beside her, Macbeth was completely still, his eyes focused on the other man. He said nothing. This was Dreamer's fight. He merely held her hand to remind her that she was not alone, and that—on her cue, he would leap into action. Not a moment sooner. Not until she got the closure she needed.

"Why…" Her voice trembled. She couldn't control her body's violent shaking. "Why did you marry her in the first place? Why did you make her think you loved her?"

Rosy had been so convinced. The way she smiled when she talked about him. About the charming man she'd met. About how it was love at first sight. How kind and compassionate he was. How gentle. How tender.

He wasn't tender when he cut her open.

"For the same reason I killed her, little sister. I _wanted_ to." He brushed the yellow streak of hair behind his shoulder. "I was curious about what it would be like to have a family. I pretended to love her because families are founded on love, aren't they?" This was a legitimate question—as if he didn't know the first thing about families _or_ love.

"If it's any consolation to you," he continued, as casually as ever, "I do regret killing her at times." He frowned. "When Rosy screamed… It was the first time I _felt_ something. The look of terror in her pink eyes when she looked up at me…" Now, he glanced at Macbeth. "You know that feeling, don't you Macbeth? Is it not exhilarating when innocent, cherry blossom eyes look at you in fear?"

Macbeth's jaw clenched.

Dreamer wiped her cheeks as offensive tears rolled continually down them. "And what about Syllestra? Does she mean nothing to you, too?"

"She means a lot to me," his frown deepened.

"You have her tied up to a machine that's killing her! She's your _daughter_! Your using your _daughter_ to power a machine like… like some kind of battery!"

"It's _because_ she's my daughter that I'm using her," he said, condescendingly. "I am… a bit surprised at you, Dreamer. Did you not do your homework on Diamant Blanc? You always did so well in school…" Yet another sigh.

"Diamant Blanc were the founders of Diamond Make magic. That is the magic Syllestra and I use," he said this with a patronizing look, as if he were explaining simple math to a child. "They also created the Nikolana Device—that's the device you passed on your way up the stairs. They were also the ones who sealed the device away in enchanted white diamond.

The diamond they used can only be cut by pure diamond magic, which is highly unfortunate, considering by the time I knew about this device, I had already begun practicing dark magic. Therefore, I had no other choice but to find a pure Diamond Make wizard to cut through the white diamond. Conveniently, my daughter inherited my magical abilities."

"Conveniently…" Dreamer gritted her teeth. "You're sick."

"Hm." He tilted his head slightly. "People say that a lot. Are we done talking?" He glanced at the magic circle still spinning in his hand.

"I have one more question." She took a deep breath. "Why are you doing this? Why do you want to use the Nikolana Device?"

Resmond didn't answer right away, so she looked up at him. He met her gaze with ease, before giving a noncommittal shrug.

"Because I can."

She closed her eyes and breathed a shaky breath. She had always known this was who Resmond was. She didn't know what she was expecting by asking him these things. Regret? Remorse? Was she hoping he would have some kind of reason for the atrocities he'd caused, even if it was a horrible one?

"A diamond encased device used by ancient diamond makers. I figured it was such a fun coincidence that I should take on the challenge myself. That's all, really."

She didn't know what she'd wanted to hear, but for some reason, she felt a strange sense of serenity settle over her. Resmond had proved it—that there was never anything redeemable inside of him. That, down to his hollow core, there was nothing but evil void.

Now she could kill him without anything holding her back.

"Ah. I can see it in your eyes. Now, you want to fight." He held his arms open wide. "Come to me, little sister. Remind me of her."

Dreamer squeezed Macbeth's hand. He glanced at her, expectantly, as if he'd been waiting for her cue all along. She gave a tiny nod.

"Finally."

He released her hand, just to raise it into the air, as his signature, sadistic smirk touched his lips.

"Spiral Pain!"

* * *

 **Near the Wall**

Sânge approached Gajeel's unmoving form. He ran his tongue over his lips in desire.

"Did you see, Kobolse?" Trembling with excitement. "I spilled the blood of another slayer. Am I strong enough now?" He cast his red gaze toward the open sky. "Will you return to me?" Even with the distortion in his voice, this question was a whimper. He stared up at the moon for a splintering moment, as if expecting the silhouette of a purple dragon to eclipse it. But there was nothing, save for the silvery trail of a cloud as it brushed across the sky. He dropped his head to look down at Gajeel once more.

He stood over his opponent, and raised his hand to gather the iron-slayer's blood into his palm. He had to finish it. Only when he'd consumed the other man's blood could he consider himself the champion, worthy of his mother's return.

Suddenly, an iron grip snapped around his ankle like a bear-trap.

The iron-slayer's body was still limp, face on the dirt, black hair splayed across the ground, and yet… The muscles in his left arm strained tightly, as he clutched Sânge's ankle.

"You still have fight left in you, Black-Steel?!" he laughed out loud, and lifted his foot to stomp down.

Gajeel slowly raised his head and opened his mouth wide. Sânge paused, frozen by the shock of the other man's tenacity. He watched in mute horror and astonishment as Gajeel took a deep breath. Blood mist swirled around the two of them, speckling everything with red.

He began to drink.

"Wha—What are you doing?!" Sânge tried to take a step back but Gajeel didn't release his ankle. He opened his mouth wider, lungs breathing in the blood mist that surrounded them.

"Y-You are an iron-eater! How dare you ingest my blood?! Disgusting! You foul creature! Let me go at once!"

This time, Gajeel did. He remained hunched on the ground, shoulders shaking. He coughed up globs of blood, then put his head in his hands and roared in pain.

"Fool!" Sânge laughed, though his eyes were still wide with disgust and terror. "Your body was not designed to ingest blood! Now your death will be agonizing!"

Gajeel's roar deepened. His body began to change. His iron-scales sharpened into spikes and began to take on a deep-red hue. There was a sickening tearing sound as wings forced themselves from under his shoulder blades—wings of red steel.

"Impossible!" Sânge stumbled back.

Gajeel began to stand. His eyes were now as red as Sânge's—no whites, no pupils. He bared fangs and canines, dripping with blood. His nails grew into sharp, metal claws. A gray mist shrouded him.

"That was the most disgusting iron I've ever tasted," he growled, as he wiped his mouth.

"No…" Sânge's voice quavered. Iron… Iron was _in_ blood. He'd never considered that Gajeel might do something like this. It was incomprehensible. It was disgusting. He sprouted his own bloody wings, panic evident in his entire form. "Get away from me, Black-Steel!"

"Guess I'm not Black-Steel anymore." He bared his claws.

Sânge jumped into the sky to flee.

"Where are you going, coward?!" Gajeel clenched a fist. "Blood-Steel Barrage!" He used the same attack that Sânge had used against him, turning Sânge's blood into projectiles that tore him apart from the inside. Only this attack was a thousand times worse than the other, because the blood Gajeel used was akin to bullets.

Sânge shrieked and fell to the ground. Gajeel met him with a series of punches. It was Sânge's turn to defend, pushed farther and farther back by the renewed strength and vigor of Gajeel's new form.

He took to the sky again, but Gajeel was right behind him.

"Gotta say, it's nice to have wings!" He clutched Sânge's wrist and pulled him into another hit, straight to the jaw.

Sânge fought back with claws, like a feral cat trying desperately to escape the grip of a dog. He cried out in surprise and pain when his claws struck the red steel.

"I—I can't penetrate his armor anymore…"

Gajeel head-butted him with full force, splitting skin.

They continued to fight, diving and dodging in the night sky. No matter how hard Sânge tried, he couldn't cut through Gajeel's new armor. He took hit after hit, until the iron-slayer had had enough. He grabbed Sânge by the throat and dove with him, slamming him hard against the ground.

Sânge hissed before grabbing Gajeel's face with his bloody palm. There was an acidic steam as Sânge's blood worked to melt the steel.

Gajeel rolled to get away, but his opponent mounted him, now holding his head to the ground with a burning palm. "I can still win this," he said, in a deranged cry. "I will prove my strength to her, no matter the cost!"

Gajeel cursed in pain. Dread shot through him. _Shit, he found a way to beat me, and I ain't got anything left! I gotta think fast! What the hell did Pops say? Lesser Sea? Something about his heart?_

He looked at the blood-slayer's chest. He got a close-up view of the lacrima pulsing in the mess of internal flesh and veins there. Every pulse made Sânge's blood glow—and Gajeel could feel the heat scarring his face in the same rhythm.

It was an impulse. He shoved his hand into Sânge's chest cavity, felt the sickening squish of flesh and blood around his fingers, felt the hard edges of the magical stone. His fingers closed around the lacrima.

Sânge's hand lifted from Gajeel's face, his eyes wide in horror. His lips mouthed the silent plea.

 _No._

Gajeel pulled. He ripped the lacrima from the other man's chest, yanking and severing tendrils of flesh in the process. In the same move, he rolled the blood-slayer off him and stood, hoisting the makeshift heart above his head, pulsing red against a starless sky.

Sânge's form immediately began to revert to normal. His horns receded, scaled flaked away, pupils emerged. Now, the signs of the battle were obvious on his skin. Gashes, bruises, bloodshot eyes, and an empty hole in his chest. He stared up at Gajeel's demonic face, pale lips trembling.

"H-How?" Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. "That lacrima… It was supposed to make me strong. How can I still be so weak?"

"You really thought some stupid rock was going to make you strong?" Gajeel's teeth were still bared, his red eyes locked hard on Sânge's. "You don't even know what strength is."

Sânge coughed up blood. Tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes, following a trail around his ears until they fell into the blood-stained earth.

Gajeel stood proudly, the victor outlined by moonlight, his trophy clutched in his hand. He bared his teeth and glared down at the blood-slayer. "Strength doesn't come from a lacrima! You could have a million of these and you'd still be weak! Strength comes from protecting the people you love! It comes from helping those who need it, even when fighting for them puts your own life in danger! When you only think about yourself, you can never be strong. Trust me, I've been there." There was passion in his tone. His eyes bore into Sânge's as he continued. "I thought I was tough-shit too, until I found Fairy Tail. They taught me that I was really just some weak-ass punk who beat people up so I could feel better about myself. But I got stronger, because those idiots stood by my side. They fought for me until I decided to fight for them too."

Gajeel smiled widely as he went on. "You were never going to beat me in a fight, because I'm here fighting for Beth and Dreamer and Syllestra, which makes me a thousand times stronger than you and this stupid rock!"

Sânge could only stare in awe, speechless at this declaration. Broken. Humbled.

"And I don't know about this Kobolse, but I kind of find it hard to believe that a dragon who takes in a weakling human would think hurting the innocent makes you strong. Why don't you try following her example? Find someone you want to protect, and fight for them! Fight with everything you've got! Protect them the way your old lady protected you. Maybe then you can call yourself strong."

Sânge inhaled sharply at these words. For a moment, he was a child again…

 _It is dark and snowing. Kobolse is curled on the ground, as elegant and grand as always. Sânge is several feet away, huddling under a small blanket, trying to keep his little body warm._

" _What are you doing?" She grumbles at him, a glowing red eye cast in his direction. "Stop that. Stop that human shaking or whatever your body is doing. It is disturbing."_

" _I am s-sorry, Mother K-Kobolse… I'm s-so c-c-cold."_

" _Have you not yet learned how to regulate your body temperature by heating your blood? I have only explained it to you a hundred times." She taps a claw on the ground in annoyance._

" _I-I'm trying, Mother, b-but…" he lets out a puff of air. "That spell is t-too hard f-f-for me…"_

" _Hmph. 'Raise a human child,' he said. 'It will be fun,' he said. What a joke." She turns her head away from the shivering child. "Master the spell or freeze."_

 _He tries. He tries so hard. But his body is so small, and he doesn't have much blood to keep warm, and it's hard to cast spells when he's shaking so badly._

 _The dragon looks back over her shoulder at him. She stares, unblinking, for a long time. Then, she growls and rolls onto her side. "Sânge. Come here."_

" _Yes, Ma'am." He stands, and crosses the clearing to her._

" _That is enough." She lifts her purple wings._

" _B-but I… If I don't m-master the s-spell, I'll f-f-freeze."_

" _You will not freeze tonight." She raises a massive, clawed hand, and scoops him up in it. She tucks him against her chest and wraps her wings around them, shielding him from the oppressive cold._

 _She's so warm. Her scales so much softer than they appear. Her heart beats loudly next to his ear._

" _If you drool, or cough, or do that disgusting thing where you humans expel mucous from your nasal passages, I will leave you in the snow to become an icicle, do you understand? Keep your filth off me, and I shall keep you warm."_

" _Yes, Mother Kobolse. No germs," he recites. Already, her warmth and closeness, her comfort, is lulling him to sleep._

" _Hm… Then, goodnight… my son."_

Sânge closed his eyes as fresh tears poured down his cheeks at the memory. Kobolse… his mother had protected him when he was small and weak—and there was no being in the universe more powerful than Kobolse, so… Was that the example then, of true strength? Was Gajeel right? Did strength come from protecting the helpless, the way Kobolse protected him?

He opened his eyes, and looked up at the iron-slayer. He supposed he would never know the answer, because he would die tonight, bested by a far stronger dragon-slayer than him.

But instead of landing a final blow, Gajeel dropped his hand, and began to revert to normal. He too was covered in scratches and bruises, and nursed what looked like a broken rib. He winced, and looked down at Sânge with a smirk.

"Y-You are not going to kill me?"

"Nah. Wouldn't want your old lady coming to kick my ass later."

Then, to Sânge's utter astonishment, he tossed the blood-lacrima back to him.

He caught it, but his eyes never parted from the other man. He blinked again and again through tears, uncomprehending.

"Now if you'll excuse me," Gajeel grunted in pain before limping away. "I smell a dying snake who could use some help. You're gonna owe me for this, Erik."

"Black-Steel…" Sânge tried to sit up, but the pain in his chest was unbearable, and he was too exhausted.

"Yo, just call me Gajeel. I ain't the weakling who used ta go by that name anymore."

"Gajeel…" Sânge blinked. "I am sorry."

Gajeel looked back with a sheepish grin. "Don't be. Just stop looking for strength in all the wrong places." He gave him a thumbs-up. "Later, Sânge."

With this, he limped away, toward the basement where Erik had fought Giseld.

Sânge managed to sit up and lean against the wall. He touched his chest and winced. If it weren't for the fact he was a blood-dragon slayer, he'd be dead. With no heart and no lacrima in his chest, the only thing keeping him alive was his magic, pumping the blood through his veins.

He mulled over what Gajeel had said. About strength. About protecting the innocent. About Kobolse… And he wept, as he realized how wrong he'd been. Kidnapping Syllest, deceiving Dreamer, all for this rock. If it was true strength he had desired, he would have protected them, the way Macbeth and Gajeel and the others were doing right now.

He thought of his dance with Dreamer—the trust in her pink eyes that he had deceived in his pursuit of false power. The memory of her face wrecked him even further, and he huddled into a ball, much the way he had as a child in the snow.

"Mother…" he cried. "Help me find true strength."

* * *

Pantherlily soared with Syllestra back out to the fighting crowd in the courtyard. He looked down for a face he recognized. He caught sight of Jezran's brother and flew down to meet him.

"Exceed! How goes your mission? We have pushed back enemy forces here. Most slaves are running for the hills."

"We've rescued Syllestra." Pantherlily showed him the tender package in his arms. "She needs to be escorted out of here immediately.

"And what of my brother?"

"I'm… going back for him." Pantherlily remembered his limp form on the walkway with a grimace. You must send a messenger, as well. The Nikolana Device has been activated."

The man's eyes shot open in shock, then grim realization. "I understand." He took Syllestra from Pantherlily's arms.

The exceed gave a nod and then took the air again, to go back for Jezran.


	67. Nightmares Of The Past

**A/N: Loyal readers, we're in the home stretch! I can't believe how far this story has come or how much attention it has received. Two more reviews and it breaks 300, which is something I would have never thought feasible for a Midnight fic. Thank you so much for following and loving this story. ^^ Chapter 75 will be the last chapter, but I will follow it up with a collection of fillers to hopefully amuse you and occupy your time while I work on the sequel. Which, of course begs the question, how many of you are interested in a sequel? Furthermore, I'd like your input on how to present that sequel, since it concerns you as readers as well it concerns me.**

 **I have two options. 1) I can start a new document specifically for the sequel, which means you will have to find and follow it. 2) I can continue to add chapters to this document after the collection of filler scenes. In the first option, I have a clean slate and a less hefty fanfiction (which has its merits because long fics can turn away curious readers). In the second option, OSD continues to be refreshed in the list of recent stories, possibly drawing more readers to it, but the chapter count gets waaaaaay up there.**

 **Thoughts? Preferences?**

 **Anyway, I hope you've been enjoying this final arc and battle scenes! I find it highly amusing that some of you are so concerned about Erik, considering there are three major characters KO right now, one of which is an old man who took an energy spike through his entire body. xD Don't worry about Erik. Gajeel smelled him bleeding in the basement. He's in good, iron hands now.**

 **Please, continue to share your honest thoughts! You've been strangely silent throughout this arc, so I have a hard time gauging whether or not I'm successfully delivering the ideas I want to convey! Specifically, did you like how I wrote the battle scenes, and divided them up between chapters rather than using one chapter for each fight? Were they convincing, entertaining battles, or were they droll? (I have deep insecurities about my ability to write successful battles). And Sange, did he capture your heart as a classic, redeemable Fairy Tail villain?**

 **I don't need ego fluff (*cough* though I don't mind it all that much). I would love your honest opinions about this arc so far. So, if you find the time, drop a review and tell me how I'm doing!**

 **Thank you all so much!**

* * *

 **Chapter 67: Nightmares of the Past**

Resmond moved instantly. He erected a black shield in front of him. It seemed to absorb the energy of Macbeth's attack, with the gravitational pull of its own dark magic. Macbeth raised his hand and clenched a fist.

Nothing happened.

His eyes widened in surprise. Resmond stepped casually out from behind the shield.

"I am afraid it's no use, Macbeth. You will not be able to control my diamonds." He held his palms out in front of him. "Diamon- Make: Sword."

A hilt formed in his hands, ornately crafted with tendrils of thorny vines. A soulless, black-diamond blade formed from it as well. The speed in which he crafted was akin to Gray's ability to make ice, which should be impossible given the density of the material. Yet, Resmond did it with ease.

"Scream."

He rushed forward, yellow eyes set on Dreamer, like the gleaming eyes of a wolf in the dark. Macbeth stepped instinctively in front of her, and swished his hand to reflect the blade.

He gasped when it sliced through his reflector, completely unhindered.

"Macbeth!" Dreamer yanked him roughly out of its line of trajectory. He cried out in pain when the blade nicked the skin of his shoulder, but at least it had missed its original target.

He scooped Dreamer into his arms and jumped out of Resmond's range. He dropped her to her feet before grimacing and touching his now bleeding shoulder.

Resmond regained his posture. He fixed the crown on his head and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear before yawning. "I am sure that is quite painful, isn't it?" He dropped the sword carelessly to the ground. "My diamonds are infused with dark magic, as you already know. One of the unfortunate-for-you side effects, is lingering dark poison."

Dreamer swallowed nervously as she looked at Macbeth. She could feel his fear rolling off him in waves. It was the same fear she was feeling, as they were faced with a man who was shrouded in thicker magical energy than they had ever felt.

Macbeth thought back to Zero—to standing before a monster with red eyes, whom he had been equally terrified of. Only then, he had been terrified for himself. Now, facing the King of Diamonds, he could care less about himself—the fear he felt was for the woman at his side.

"Neither my manipulation magic, nor my reflector magic works on him," he said, with a tremor in his voice. He glanced at Dreamer. "Your sleeping pills…?"

She inhaled sharply at the idea. Surely even Resmond couldn't be impervious to sleeping pills from Edolas! Her hand went automatically to her side… then fell limp. White rose petals fluttered to the ground from the gold ball-gown she wore. There had been no room for a bottle of pills in the tight-fitting dress—no need for them on the Excalibur ballroom dance-floor.

She shook her head, lips pinched together.

"Then I have no choice." He took a step forward, barring Dreamer with his arm so she wouldn't follow him. "Close your eyes, Dream."

She did, as the unmistakable sound of a bell tolling echoed off the walls of the room.

The corner of Macbeth's mouth twitched in a smirk. "Resmond… I've been waiting a long time for this."

"Really?" Resmond asked sincerely, as he clasped his hands behind his back and waited.

"You are worth destroying," Macbeth said, excitement beginning to seep from his lips, from his outstretched arms. "I haven't been this thrilled about a fight since I faced Titania on Nirvana! No… even before that… Never have I wanted to hear a lullaby of screams as badly as I do now! Never have I craved the sight of torture like I do right now!"

"We really are alike," Resmond noted. "I'm not the only one who likes the sound of screams."

The bell continued to chime.

"I am nothing like you," Macbeth said, as wild fury swirled in his red eyes. "You're nothing but a roach—an infestation. And I am your exterminator!"

The nightmare began to materialize. The walls of the room disappeared, becoming a backdrop of gray. Macbeth began to transform into his nightmare form, the horrifying demon that haunted the sleep of so many Oracion Seis victims.

There was an echo in the nightmare-space, the distant sound of water dripping, sending soundwaves rippling in all directions. For a moment, that sound seemed like it would take form. Shadows flickered and flittered, morphing and twisting, but never quite taking on an appearance. Everywhere was the crackle of an empty space, lacking resolution like a broken magic panel on a vehicle. Shadows rose… then flickered and fell. The ripple grew louder… then faded away.

Resmond looked around him, expectantly. He waited, hands clasped behind his back, yellow eyes unfeeling.

Macbeth's nightmare form roared in anger. His claws scraped on ground, his teeth gnashed. The sight made Resmond cock his head just slightly, but that was all. Other than this tiny movement, the man couldn't look less interested.

The nightmare form began to shrink. The walls of the space flickered, then deteriorated. Macbeth's true body stood, arms outstretched, feet shoulder-width apart, mouth parted in an expression of total shock.

"What?!" His eyes opened wide in horror. A violent tremor shook his spine. "My nightmare failed? That's not possible!"

Resmond nonchalantly picked a hair from his sleeve.

"Y-You're not even afraid!" Macbeth stumbled back, colliding with Dreamer behind him.

"Afraid?" Resmond blinked. "Should I be?"

Dreamer opened her eyes, as dread plummeted into her stomach.

"I've never felt fear before," the King of Diamonds mused. "What is it like, Macbeth? Sânge says it causes your heart rate to speed up and your palms to sweat, your throat to constrict. Is that what you're feeling now?"

Macbeth's pupils were retracted, his body shaking with horror. "H-He doesn't feel fear… That's not possible. E-Everyone feels fear!"

"Not Resmond…" Dreamer's face was pale, her body trembling as well. "He doesn't feel _anything_."

"Dream…" Macbeth swallowed hard, never once looking away from Resmond's eyes. "W-We have to run. We can't fight him."

She knew he was right. Resmond was impervious to every aspect of Macbeth's magic, and Dreamer had absolutely no offensive spells. They were completely outclassed.

But running away? Letting him live? Living in fear for who-knows-how-long that he would come for her and Syllestra again?

"I can't…" she shook her head, sending tears flying. "I have to get my revenge, for Rosy! I have to keep Syllest safe! I can't let him live!"

"Don't be stupid!" Macbeth snapped at her. "He'll kill us both!"

"Thinking of running?" Resmond held up his hands. "Diamond-Make: Cage."

The walls around them were suddenly blocked off by bars of diamond.

"Can I show you some new spells I've been practicing?" Resmond asked. "I haven't had the chance to use them on anyone, yet."

The way he talked to them… As if they were his audience, not his opponents.

"I'll take your silence as a yes, then."

"Stay behind me," Macbeth commanded, though his voice wavered in terror.

"N-No!" She grasped his hand. "We fight together!"

"Dark Diamond-Make: Demon." He moved his palms in a strange pattern, and began forming a beast from black diamond. It resembled a panther, with spikes along its spine. The created demon's tail swished and shoulders hunched in preparation to pounce. "That worked well," he mused. "My first dynamic creation."

The demon pounced.

Macbeth and Dreamer separated, each of them jumping in the opposite direction to avoid the attack. The creature rounded on Dreamer and leapt again. Its heavy paws slammed her into the ground. She rolled to the side, but did not avoid a slash across the arm and collarbone from diamond claws.

"Dreamer!" Macbeth lifted his hand, using his magic to pick up an old piece of metal from the ground, which he slammed against the demon's diamond head. The metal bent, doing absolutely nothing to harm the creation. However, the attack did seem to distract it. It turned on Macbeth and charged. He dodged over and over, narrowly avoiding claws and fangs as the creature backed him into a corner.

Resmond was watching with muted interest. In fact, his attention was so focused on Macbeth struggling to escape the clutches of his demon, that he didn't notice Dreamer coming up from behind.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she crept up on him. Everything was surreal. Being in the same room as her sister's murderer again. Seeing his familiar posture, his swaying black hair, as if from a time when she was younger. She was thirteen again, helpless against him. Thirteen years old, looking up at her personal Satan.

She gritted her teeth and shook her head, forcing herself back to the present moment. She wasn't thirteen anymore, and she wasn't helpless. This time, she would fight back. This time, she would stop him before it was too late. She hadn't been able to save Rosy… But she _would_ save Syllestra, and protect Macbeth.

While his back was turned, she jumped. She leapt onto his back and threw her arms around his neck to choke him. She closed her eyes when she did this, because the sensation of touching Resmond was nearly enough to make her vomit. She held her breath, afraid of breathing in his scent. Afraid of smelling the charcoal hair that once draped around her sister's shoulders.

Of course, the moment Resmond was aware of her grip on his throat, he swept around. He gripped her by the forearm and slung her onto the ground, sending her skidding a few feet with a cry of pain. Now, his attention was on Dreamer. His face flickered with the slightest emotion, mouth parting in a sharp intake of breath at the sound of her cry.

"I want to hear it again," he murmured, as he stepped toward her cowering form with palms glowing.

Before he could reach her, however, a chunk of stone collided hard with his temple. This dropped his focus enough to cause the diamond beast to shatter and reveal Macbeth pressed against the bars with his hand outstretched. He flicked his finger, lifting more debris to pelt Resmond with.

"Diamond-Make: Armor!" Resmond lifted his hands and swept them over himself. This created a black suit of armor that protected him from every stone and chunk of metal. The only color in this void suit, was the gleaming of yellow eyes.

"Diamond-Make: Spikes."

Sharp spikes suddenly jutted up from the ground, around both Macbeth and Dreamer. There were cries of pain as both Fairy Tail wizards were sliced in several places. Dreamer scrambled to her feet, but Resmond moved his palms again causing black vines to close around her calves. Diamond thorns pierced her flesh, and she cried out again.

"I love that sound," he whispered in his helmet. "You like it too, Macbeth, don't you? Let's listen to it again, together!"

"Don't touch her, roach!" Macbeth charged as Resmond sent needles at Dreamer's back. She gave a broken scream as they penetrated her skin. When Macbeth reached him, he was already waiting, a black diamond dagger in hand. He moved quickly and made a flurry of strikes, slicing Macbeth across the chest, arm, and a long slice across his cheek.

"Hm. Sânge would probably really like to see all of this," Resmond said calmly as he observed the blood around him. "If he survives tonight, I guess I can let him raid your bodies."

"Stop!" Dreamer cried out. She was still on the ground, held down by the diamond tendrils. "Resmond, stop! Please!"

"Why?" he blinked at her.

"Please! For Rosy, for me, for Syllestra! Please, just stop!"

She knew it was pointless. She knew there was nothing in Resmond to appeal to. No heart. No emotion. Her words fell on deaf ears. This man's soul was as black and hard as the diamonds he created.

"There's something… I really want to try," Resmond said, ignoring her pleas altogether. He lifted his hands again.

Macbeth started to stand to stop him, but Resmond raised a hand in the air and immediately crafted chains that snapped around Macbeth's wrists and ankles. "Tsk tsk, Macbeth. Boyfriends aren't allowed at family reunions."

"Dammit!" He struggled uselessly in the bounds. "Dreamer!"

Resmond approached and stood over her, staring down with expressionless, lightning eyes. "Look at me, little Rosy."

She did. She stared up at his ominous form, at the electric hell in his eyes.

"This is a spell I mastered just for you…" He held his palms over her. Black magic circles spun. "Dark Memory."

She was eclipsed by darkness.


	68. For Rosy

**A/N: Wow... I would have never imagined when I first posted this story that it would end up with over 300 reviews and 100 followers. You guys have helped me reach an amazing milestone. I am so humbled and deeply awed by your love for this story. Thank you so much.**

 **I appreciate the feedback about the sequel~! I'll definitely do a separate document, and I'll post a chapter at the end of this one when I've posted the first chapter of the sequel, to tell you that it's ready for reading, and where you can find it!**

 **Now, for the final chapter of battle...**

 **TRIGGER WARNING: I probably should have done this with the Sange battle scene, in retrospect, since it was so gruesome. Oh well, I'm not making that mistake this time. I don't know your backstories, dear readers, but I do know that there's some heavy content in this chapter, specifically centered around domestic violence *cough* Resmond *cough.* Furthermore, the chapter itself is written to be extremely heavy and emotionally jarring. Just take care when you read it, please. And, above all remember: as a rule, I wanted to keep the tone of this fic as close to the tone of Fairy Tail as possible.  You can decide for yourselves what that means at the end of this chapter.  
**

* * *

 **Chapter 68: For Rosy**

In Pergrande, in the ruins of an ancient castle, a world-threatening disaster was breaking loose. The Nikolana Device, an ancient machine capable of causing earthquakes of monumental destruction, had begun its process. It was small at first—barely detectable tremors deep in the earth. But with each wave of power, the earthquakes grew in strength. Above this device, and above the black diamond machine that had cut it loose from its confines, in the highest room of the tower, three wizards were oblivious to the increasing magnitude below them. Even as dust from the tower walls began to fall, and loose rubble rattled. One wizard was strapped down by black chains, unable to be concerned with the earthquakes when his red eyes were glued to the motionless body of his comrade a few feet away. Black diamond tendrils were slowly encircling her, giving off residual dark energy like steam—dark energy that had made her succumb to an invisible magical spell. Above her, the third wizard watched, with his palms extended and curiosity in his electric eyes.

* * *

 **Dreamer:**

 _Where am I?_

It's dark. Everything feels sharp. She's trapped. A butterfly beneath the glass.

It's still dark, but she can feel her body again. She's on something hard, but not nearly as hard as before. Something familiar. Next to her is warmth and the smell of roses.

"Why doesn't anyone want us?" she asks. She can't remember why she said this, or who she's talking to.

"Well, lots of people don't really like to adopt older kids. They like babies and toddlers." Her sister answers. That's who she's talking to, of course. Big sister Rosy.

The age gap is large between them. Rosy is sixteen. Dreamer is nine. In many ways, Rosy is more of a mother to her than a sister. She can't remember her mom anyway. All she knows is Big Sister Rosy.

"Is it because I'm a wizard?" she asks. She's clutching Rosy's nightgown for comfort—for safety.

Rosy doesn't answer right away, so she knows it's true.

"Silly Dream," Rosy says. "Your magic is great. Though you could _try_ not to trick people into giving us candy?"

They giggle and clutch each other close in the dark orphanage.

"Don't worry, Dream," Rosy whispers. "Soon I'll be old enough to take care of you and we can leave this place."

 _Dream._

That's right. Rosy used to call her "Dream" too. _Too_? Who else calls her that? Why does the name make her feel so… warm?

…

Rosy was right. They live together now. It's a little apartment, but it's perfect. It's perfect because Rosy is there. They have each other and nothing else matters.

Dreamer is ten now. She goes to school while Rosy works. She doesn't remember what Rosy does for work, but it's enough to feed them and clothe them and it wouldn't matter if it wasn't because they're together. That's enough for Dreamer. It makes her happy.

Rosy doesn't seem as happy as she is though. It must be hard on her. She's seventeen, raising her younger sister. She works really hard. She seems worried a lot. But she always smiles when she talks to Dreamer. Always optimistic—always certain that the future will get better. Every day will be better than the last, Rosy promises. She makes Dreamer feel better, even if she doesn't really mean it. Even if Rosy doesn't really believe that things will get better.

Dreamer is eating a mustard sandwich on the floor, since they have no table. She's waiting for Rosy to come home from work. It's later than usual. She's not worried though. Rosy will come home. Nothing bad could ever happen to Rosy.

Rosy opens the door and closes it and leans against it. Her cheeks are rosy red, like her name. Her eyelashes flutter in excitement. She swoons and holds her hands over her heart.

"Dream, you will not believe what just happened!" Rosy joins her on the floor with hearts in her eyes. "I just met this guy…"

Dreamer listens and chews her food silently as Rosy rambles on and on about this man she's met. She says it was love at first sight. She describes his handsome face and electric eyes, his deep and "sexy" voice. She says he's quiet and mysterious and doesn't smile much, which for some reason makes him more attractive to her.

Dreamer is happy because Rosy is happy. Her pink eyes shimmer with so much joy and excitement and hope. Dreamer's magic is young and raw but she can still feel it rolling from her sister in waves. She wants Rosy to feel like this always. She never wants her to feel sad again. If she could bottle this moment, these feelings forever…

 _But it won't last forever._

…

It's the day Dreamer meets him.

It's two weeks after Rosy came home talking about him and now Dreamer is meeting him for the first time. But before he comes, Rosy kneels in front of her and grabs her shoulders.

"Dream… I really like this guy," she says. Her round face is serious, her long, cream air is brushing Dreamer's arms. "But… He's not a wizard and I don't know how he feels about magic, so… Could you try not to use your eyes on him?"

Dreamer feels sad. Rosy wants her to pretend she doesn't use magic. But that's okay. As long as Rosy is happy. As long as Dreamer can use her magic to sense Rosy's joy, that's all that matters.

Then, she meets him.

Rosy was right. He's handsome. Something about him is stunning. His sharp features, his consuming yellow eyes. His hair is so dark and long. He politely smiles at Dreamer. He holds out his hand. She shakes it, uncertainly. For a moment, she thinks she can feel a buzzing between their palms, but it vanishes instantly.

"Hello, Dreamer," he says, and his voice is just like Rosy described. "My name's Res. Nice to meet you."

She looks up at him. She returns the sentiment, but… Something feels strange. She can't place it, but this man… It's not that she's trying to use her magic on him, or trying to contain it, it's that it doesn't matter. She feels… nothing. She doesn't detect happiness when she looks at him. Or excitement or… anything. Her magic has never failed her like this before. She doesn't understand it, but she promised Rosy she would keep quiet about her magic for now, so she does.

 _Nothing. He felt nothing._

…

Rosy has only known him for three months when she tells Dreamer the news. They are getting married.

This seems sudden to Dreamer, but Rosy is smiling ear to ear when she tells her. She's radiating that unspeakable joy that makes Dreamer's magic go crazy. So she doesn't question her sister. She congratulates her.

The wedding is simple. Resmond doesn't have family to attend. Neither do Rosy and Dreamer. It's simple but it's beautiful.

Rosy is perfect in every way. Her yellow dress, her long cream waves. She's more beautiful than Dreamer could ever hope to be. And there are tears of happiness in her eyes when Resmond kisses her.

Dreamer can feel the joy, the love, the overwhelming positivity that simply exudes from her sister.

But that's all she can feel.

She looks at Res. He is smiling. There are tears in his eyes too. And yet… Dreamer feels… _nothing_.

…

They live together for a little while. Now they can afford a home, a real home, instead of their little apartment. Dreamer was happy in the little apartment with Rosy though.

She feels less happy now.

It's not that things are bad. They're great. Rosy and Resmond love each other, or at least it seems like it. She knows that Rosy loves him. But after all this time, her magic still doesn't respond to him. Ever. At all.

But he's kind to Dreamer. He helps her with homework. He asks her a lot of questions. He learns that she is a wizard, and he doesn't condemn her.

"We finally have a family, Dream," Rosy says through tears one night, as she hugs Dreamer close.

She agrees because she knows that what Rosy wants to hear. That they are a family. And they are. Resmond is good. He's good for them. He's good for _Rosy._

Yet always, in the background, in the recesses—the dark corners of Dreamer's young mind—she isn't so sure. Why does she feel nothing around him? Why doesn't her magic work on him?

She tries, unbeknownst to Rosy, to charm Resmond. Just a little. Just a tiny bit of persuasion.

But she can't. When their eyes meet, her magic fails. She can't manipulate emotion that isn't there.

Then the day comes. The day that would mark the turning point. The day when it would all begin to fall apart.

"Dreamer, I want to talk to you about something," Rosy kneels. Her face is gentle, serious, stern… sad. "There's a school for wizards that I'm transferring you to. It will be good for you. I don't know magic, and neither does Resmond. This town doesn't have any wizards in it. It would be good for you to learn and develop your magic. I know mom would be proud of that." She's smiling and Dreamer can feel happiness, but sadness too.

"The thing is, it's a boarding school. You'll live there during the school year. You'll come home for holidays and the summer, of course! You won't be all alone!"

But Dreamer _will_ be all alone. She doesn't care about learning magic, she doesn't care about boarding school. She wants to be with Rosy. That's all that has ever mattered to her. But since Resmond came into the picture, Dreamer feels separated from her sister. She's being pushed away, she knows it. But it makes sense that Rosy would want to have time with her husband alone, without her little sister there all the time.

So, Dreamer smiles. She fakes her happiness the same way Rosy is faking hers. She pretends to be thrilled about this school. She smiles all the way until it's time for her to leave. She's smiling when she waves goodbye to Rosy, even though a feeling of dread has plummeted into her stomach. She somehow knows, as she waves to Rosy and Resmond, that nothing will ever be the same.

…

It has been a semester at the wizarding school. Dreamer has learned a lot. She can control her magic better. She can control moods better and has refined her ability to sense emotions around her. She hides the fact that she uses charm magic from her tutor, because she learns that it's illegal. It doesn't matter much, because the school teaches more about the history of magic and rules around it, than it does actual spells.

She still wishes she could see Rosy more.

Christmas break comes and Dreamer goes home.

Rosy is smiling as they talk over tea together. She's smiling, but Dreamer can no longer feel the same joy that she felt from her sister before. There's something else, an emotion Dreamer doesn't understand, swirling around her. It's something dark. It's something cold.

This is the first time Dreamer sees a bruise.

"Oh this?" Rosy touches the place on her arm. Dreamer feels emotions like shock and fear suddenly spike in her sister, but she maintains her smile. "It's nothing! I fell while I was painting, that's all." Her eyes light up, waves of excitement roll off of her. "Want to come see?"

Dreamer lets Rosy tug her into a back room that has been freshly painted.

With stars and rainbows. With a crib. With stuffed toys.

"You're going to be an aunt, Dream!"

Rosy is so happy about this, that Dreamer can't help but smile. She smiles despite the strange sensation that this is all very wrong.

Rosy is happy. That's all that matters, right?

…

The day comes. Dreamer and Resmond are in the room with her. Rosy is giving birth. Dreamer holds one hand. Resmond holds the other.

Dreamer tries to focus on her sister. Tries to be happy about the miracle of life occurring, but… She can't stop from looking up, across her sister, at Resmond's face. As always, her magic feels empty when she looks at him. It should detect something. Happiness, joy, fear, excitement… Something about his daughter's birth. But there is nothing.

Until Rosy begins to scream.

She screams and tightens her grip on their hands. She is pushing, she is crying. Her screams pierce the air, and for the first time, Dreamer feels something from Resmond. The strong surge slices through the air and makes the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Excitement.

No, that isn't strong enough a word. The feeling that surround Resmond is more. It's… _Euphoria._

Dreamer tells herself that it's because his daughter has just emerged into the world, instead of the alternative. She tells herself that there's no way he could be having such a strong, twisted reaction to the sound of Rosy screaming.

 _I was so stupid._

…

The next six months are a blur. Dreamer doesn't see Rosy often. She's in school again, but she tries to visit her and her niece.

Syllestra. Born with a head of black hair, as dark as Resmond's—but with wide pink eyes like Rosy's. Like Dreamer's.

When Dreamer does visit, it isn't happy. Rosy isn't the same. Dreamer never feels joy from her anymore. She feels only fear and… exhaustion.

 _I should have known he was hurting her. I should have done something._

But she doesn't. Dreamer is only thirteen. She's thirteen and she refuses to believe that her sister—her perfect Rose—could be wilting under the care of a wicked gardener. So, she ignores the signs. She ignores the scream of Rosy's emotions for help. She ignores the emptiness in Resmond. She ignores it all until she can't anymore.

Until it happens.

Dreamer is visiting. She's asleep in the guest room when it happens. When she hears the scream.

She stumbles out of bed and down the hall. Rosy's scream echoing in her head, followed by the sounds of little six months old Syllestra crying too.

"Rosy?" She's going into the living room.

And that scene. The scene before her. It will be forever etched into her memory. It will be a picture that she cannot burn or throw away because it will be forever stored in the darkest, most bitter parts of her mind. It will haunt her. It will replay over and over in her nightmares. It will label her a hypocrite. She can take away the nightmares of others but she will forever live with her own. She cannot rid herself of this scene. She can never unsee what pink eyes have recorded. This moment, eternally carved on the splintering tree of time.

Rosy is lifeless. Her body… Her throat.

Dreamer knows she is dead because, like with Resmond, she now feels _nothing_. Nothing from her sister. Nothing from Rosy. All she feels in the entire room is the terror coming from the baby who is laying on the ground. A baby crying instinctively for her mother—the mother she will never know.

And there stand Resmond with the blade of black diamond. With the blood on his hands. His yellow eyes are lightning bolts—not the beautiful kind that light up a stormy sky. No, these are the lightning bolts that cause forest fires, that strike dead anyone unlucky enough to be in their path. They are unfeeling, uncaring forces of destruction. They look at her—they cut her to the core and leave her splayed open, with emotional wounds that will never heal.

He looks at Dreamer and he speaks the worst possible words to hear after she has seen the lifeless body of her sister.

"Oh. That's all?"

 _That's all. As if killing her was a disappointment._

Dreamer isn't sure what pushes her. She is on the floor with her sister, with Syllestra. She is instinctively shielding the baby, instinctively facing Resmond as if she will fight him. As if she could ever win.

He reaches for the baby, but there is a knock on the door.

"What's going on in there?! Is everything okay?"

Everything is not okay. Everything will never be okay again.

Resmond blinks at the door. He looks at Dreamer, then at Rosy.

He shrugs, and he leaves through the back door.

…

The memory ends and Dreamer is in darkness again. The sharp, cold blackness.

 _I'm so sorry, Rosy. I let him kill you. I knew all along. I could have stopped him._

To her amazement, a voice replies.

 _Little sister, what could you have possibly done?_

 _I could have told you_ , Dreamer thinks. _I could have warned you_.

Light forms in front of her. It is blinding against the backdrop of black. In it is a silhouette. An angel.

 _I wouldn't have listened_ , Rosy says. _I told myself he loved me. I needed him to love me._

Dreamer considers her pink eyes. Cherry blossom pools reflect off one another.

 _I could have used my magic on him. I could have stopped him._

Rosy shakes her head. Her smile is soft.

 _You already know you couldn't have, Dream. Your magic won't work on someone who can't feel. There was nothing you could have done. You were just a child._

 _No, I—_

She thinks. She replays the words over and over.

 _My magic only works on someone who can feel._

 _My magic only works on someone who can feel._

 _Resmond can't feel._

 _But what if he_ could _?_

* * *

"DREAMER!" Macbeth cried out, desperately. He had to get her to wake up. He tried to use his magic to manipulate something he could use to wake her, but it was pointless. His magic wouldn't work while the diamond restricted him. He could only watch the scene unfold.

Resmond dropped his palms. He continued to stare down at Dreamer's face—which until now had been twitching in expressions of fear as she relived some unseen horrors.

At last, she opened her eyes.

"How was it?" Resmond asked. "I learned that spell just for you, Dreamer. So that you could see her again. Really, it's useless to me beyond that means. Am I not merciful for letting you see your sister again before I kill you?"

"Resmond…" Dreamer croaked his name and stared up at those soulless yellow eyes.

Unfeeling.

Suddenly, she reached up and grabbed his face.

Macbeth's eyes widened in surprise as Dreamer pulled Resmond's face a little closer to hers, as she bore her pink eyes into his.

Her magic circles spun. She held her gaze steady. Focused.

"It's no use, Dreamer!" Macbeth jerked the chains and pleaded with her. "He can't feel!"

"He will."

Dreamer thought of everything that had happened since Macbeth joined the guild. She thought of all the excitement and joy and love that she'd experienced in that time. She thought of the anxiety that kept her awake at night, worrying about when Resmond would attack, what he would do. She recalled all the pain, fear, frustration, rage… She brought forth every nightmare she'd had—every image of Rosy's slit throat, every echoing scream. She pushed forward every feeling she had absorbed from everyone and anyone—every ounce of emotional energy that was stored up inside of her. She brought it to the surface.

And she poured it into him.

Resmond's eyes widened. He made a guttural sound, like something of a roar and a gurgle and a scream all in one. His boots caught the floor as he stumbled back away from her.

The chains binding Macbeth, as well as the bars around the room, all shattered. The floor groaned in protest as below it, the black diamond machine Resmond had created was shattering too.

"What is this?!" Resmond grabbed his head in both hands. "I'm being torn apart!"

"Those are called emotions…" Dreamer said, breathlessly, as she tried to stand.

"No, no, no, no… Rosy… Syllestra… Why am I? What is this?!" He was sobbing. His body was shaking, pupils dilating, as countless emotions battled in his mind. He looked around wildly, like he was seeing illusions—the nightmares that Dreamer had had and absorbed all coming to life in his eyes.

Dreamer and Macbeth gasped as a tremor shook the tower. The ceiling was beginning to crumble, stones and metal falling around them. The floor was splitting as well, now in a state of continual decay.

She took a pained step toward him.

"Feel it, Resmond! All the pain that you've caused so many people! Feel it tearing you apart like it did to the rest of us!"

"Stop this! No, please! I beg you! I can't take this! I'll do anything!" He screeched in terror, wildly flailing his arms.

"I want to hear you apologize," Dreamer said, dark determination in her pink eyes. "You owe it to her! Do it! For Rosy!"

"Rosy!" He was heaving, throwing up, shivering as violently as the walls of the tower when another earthquake shook them. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Dreamer looked at Macbeth. Her expression was serene—completely at peace. She held her hand out to him, and he moved toward her.

This woman… He was in awe of her. What she had just done should have been impossible, and yet…

"Dream."

He walked to embrace her—to pull her into his arms and show her how proud he was.

"NO! Please! It hurts! It's killing me!" Resmond cried out. In wild, desperate panic he held out his palms. Suddenly, black diamonds erupted from everywhere. Diamond spears that shot from the ground. At the same time, the ground that Resmond stood on gave way. It burst down into the shaft of the chamber, and he fell with it. With the rubble, with the parts and pieces of his machine, he plummeted into the dark.

The collision of Resmond, rubble, and diamond, crushed down upon the Nikolana Device.

The earthquakes stopped. Resmond's screaming stopped.

Disoriented and confused, Macbeth righted himself on the unsteady floor.

And then he saw her.

Dreamer. Impaled by a black diamond spike. It went through her, through her chest and out of her back, and propped her up like a skewer. Her pink eyes were wide open, but totally unseeing. Her body limp.

"DREAMER!"

He ran. It was only a few steps. By the time he reached her, the diamond shattered—the likely sign that Resmond's life had ended far below. Her body fell to the floor in a heap, motionless.

"Dreamer!" He dropped to his knees beside her and pulled her into his arms. He didn't care that her blood soaked through his pants. He didn't care that the tower still cracked and swayed around them.

"Dream… Dream, please…" He tucked a strand of cream-colored hair behind her ear. He cupped her face and stared at her sightless eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks—he was choking and sobbing, but he didn't care. "Don't leave me!"

Amazingly, as if inspired by the sound of his voice, her eyelids fluttered. Her eyes rolled, as if she were trying to see him. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

 _Macbeth…_

She mouthed his name.

"Dream, look at me! You did it! You beat Resmond, Jezran rescued Syllestra, everything will be okay now!"

He squeezed her tightly. His eyes glanced at her chest, where the spike had been. He fought a wave of nausea at the sight of her insides… A torn lung, a bleeding heart.

"You can't leave…" he whimpered and slid his thumb over her lips. "I need you."

The corner of her mouth twitched in a smile. Her eyes closed.

And Dreamer's heart beat for the very last time.


	69. Have Some Faith!

**Chapter 69: Have Some Faith!**

Jezran woke up. He smelled the strong combination of sage and cedar wood, a scent that brought him back to younger days. He could remember the first time he experienced the medicinal, overpowering scent. It was a Wednesday at about 1:35 PM, she was with Makarov, her hair was the pink of ballet slippers and her eyes were the color of wine.

"Porlyusica," he said, before he opened his eyes.

He blinked slowly, and was not surprised to find himself in her abode. It was a circular room carved inside of a massive tree. Light from the forest came in through large windows. Bookshelves were carved into the walls—ladders placed around the room to help her reach potions and containers in high places. He was lying in a bed with an orange comforter, directly beside one of the windows.

"So, the fool finally wakes up," came the gruff voice of an old woman.

He sat up slowly, wincing as pain shot through his lower back. He pressed his hand against a bandage there.

"Am I to assume you have removed my kidney, dear me?" a smile flitted under his mustache.

"Of course I did," she snapped. "It's not as if I had a choice. It looked more like a charred steak than a kidney by the time I got to it. What were you thinking, Jezran?"

She stood near the bed with her hands folded indignantly over her chest. A woman several years older than him, draped in a mahogany cloak, pink hair pulled up in a bun, and a perpetual scowl on her face. Frown lines dragged on her cheeks, permanent marks of her generally bad attitude.

"To put it simply, dear me…" he leaned against the golden bedframe. "Syllestra was being used as a battery to power a machine. It was channeling magical energy from her heart through—"

"Pericardium 7," she said, her tone indicating that she was not an idiot.

"Yes. And if I removed her without changing the flow of magical energy, the machine would have discharged magic into her heart."

"So you channeled your own energy through your palm?" she scoffed. "Foolish. Had you been a millimeter off, the discharge would have killed you, too. And did you even know if the magical energy was going to discharge into one kidney?"

"I had no idea," he said honestly, "but I had hope, dear me."

"And luck," she said, disparagingly. "As reckless as always. You are possibly the number one reason I loathe humans, you know?" she sneered and turned her back on him, causing the cloak to catch in the air as she moved to her counter.

"I am aware, dear me." He chuckled under his breath, but his brown eyes soon became serious. "Syllestra…"

"She's fine." Porlyusica cut him off as she stirred a pot on the stove. "She was only unconscious for twenty-four hours. Within three days, she was back to normal, thanks to the medical attention of your Family."

"Ah, yes. I am surprised, dear me, that I am not waking up under my father's roof."

"You have Maki to thank for that," she said. She sat the ladle down and picked up a cup of water from the counter, which she walked over to him. "As soon as he realized he'd been duped, he boarded a train for Pergrande. When he got there, he demanded that you be released to come home. I told him that it was an abhorrible idea to move you in this state, but he was adamant that he return his children to their rightful place."

Jezran accepted the water graciously, then gave another light chuckle. "I am grateful, dear me. It is nice to wake up in familiar territory, as it is pleasant to see you again, Porlyusica."

"Save it, fool," she snapped. "I'd have been fine if I never saw your face again." Back to the stove to sir.

"Am I also to assume that we won the war?" He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Considering the continent has not crumbled, I deduce that the Nikolana Device was destroyed."

"So it seems," she answered. "The story seems to be that it was crushed, alongside that wicked man who caused this whole mess."

Jezran smiled and released a relieved sigh. "Thank Mavis… Then all is well, dear me."

The ladle paused. Porlyusica sat it gently on the counter. She stood still for a long moment, staring out the window in thought.

"No, Jezran. All is not well."

He blinked. The old woman turned to face him, her face as hard as stone.

"While it is true that Syllestra is safe, the Nikolana Device destroyed, and Resmond defeated..." she sighed and closed her eyes. "Listen, I'm not one to sugarcoat the truth, so I'm just going to come out and say it. Brace yourself."

Jezran clutched the orange blanket tightly.

"It's Dreamer…"

She told him what had happened. He listened, shoulders shaking slightly. Tears rolled down weathered cheeks. He stared at the blanket in his trembling hands. When she had finished speaking, he sat in silence, letting it sink in.

"I need to see," he said, hoarsely.

"You don't want to," she assured him, somewhat harshly. "It's not a pretty sight."

"Regardless," he pushed the blankets off and stood. "I must see my granddaughter."

"Fine, but I warned you." She tossed him some clothes. "If you want to traumatize yourself, that's your choice." She gave him a cane next. "You'll need this to walk for a while."

He took it, numbly. After a few short minutes, he was following Porlyusica into the forest…

* * *

The guild hall was somber. It had been for days now.

Lucy, Levy, and Kinana sat at a table, all three women lost in thought.

"How's Erik doing?" Levy asked, when the silence became unbearable.

"He's doing better," Kinana answered, resting a round cheek in her palm. "It seemed like he was going to lose his hearing at first, but it's been coming back to him. He had something like a flu for a few days, while his body was fighting off that snake-woman's venom, but he's better now."

"He and Gajeel seem to hate each other a little less," Levy commented. She tried to laugh. It came out as a strange grunt.

"That's because Gajeel saved his life," Kinana said. "Or at least, that's what Gajeel says. I think he embellished the story a little."

"Sounds like Gajeel…"

Another awkward silence fell between them.

"How's Mirajane doing?" Lucy asked the purple-haired girl. She knew that Kinana was doing all of the work that Mirajane usually did, which was no surprise given the circumstances…

"I don't really know," she answered. "I guess she's been staying with Lisanna for the time being. I haven't seen her much."

"What about Macbeth?" Lucy asked.

The other girls didn't answer. Each gave a pained look, unable to keep their gaze up.

"And Syllestra…" Lucy sighed. "She still doesn't know?"

"How do you tell a child something like that?" Levy asked. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

There was commotion as the guild hall doors were slung open.

"Can I get some help over here?!" It was Cana, shouting as she dragged in a stumbling wreck of a man.

"I got you," Max said, running to take the other arm of the man. "Geez, what happened to him?"

"What do you think?" she snapped. "He's been out getting smashed, now get him to his room!"

Max adjusted Piper's weight. The bluenette groaned in protest, before puking onto the guild hall floor.

"God dammit, Piper," Cana said angrily, though her tone was pained. "I know you're hurting but… Never mind. I'm just a hypocrite." She gave Max a shove toward the door before slinking away, herself, likely to clean vomit from her shoes.

"Poor Piper…" Levy watched as Max helped him outside. As Piper sobbed and stumbled the whole way.

More silence. It might have never ended.

If not for Natsu.

"Grrrr! DAMMIT! I'M SICK OF THIS!" The fire dragon slayer leapt onto a table, fists clenched, flames all around him. "QUIT MOPING AROUND!"

"Natsu!" Lucy stood up and slammed her palms onto the table-top. "Have some respect!"

"NO WAY!" He bared his canines at everyone who was watching. "All of you are moping around like someone died! I'm sick of it! Dreamer's NOT dead! So don't talk to me about respect, Luce! Everyone here is disrespecting Dreamer by not believing in her! She's going to get better, so HAVE SOME DAMN FAITH IN HER!"

He breathed heavily, eyes flashing with fury. Several eyes looked at him in shock.

"Natsu…" Lucy reached for him, with tears in her eyes. "It's not that simple… The chances of her coming back from this…"

"There's a chance, isn't there?!" he cut her off. "Since when does Fairy Tail give up before it's over?! I don't know who you people are, but you're not the Fairy Tail I know! The Fairy Tail I know would keep hoping and praying with everything they got! They'd believe in their members! Besides…" his eyes twinkled with determination. "Just think about how strong she is!"

They all looked back and forth at one another.

"I mean, she doesn't even have offensive magic, but she and Mac took down the King of Diamonds! And she's a Fairy Tail wizard! She's always been tough!"

"Natsu has a point," Erza said this. She stood up from the table she'd been sitting at, alone. "This is Dreamer we're talking about. The same woman who raised a toddler in the streets at the age of thirteen."

"And reformed an infamous Excalibur thug," Wakaba agreed.

"And a drunk gambler," Macao jeered his thumb in the direction Max had taken Piper out the door.

"She took care of big sis when Lisanna went missing," Elfman said, tears rolling down his face. "She was… so… _manly_!"

"And didn't she travel with Macbeth for three days when he was still a part of the Oracion Seis?" Happy added.

"Exactly," Erza nodded, "the same man who posed quite a challenge for me on Nirvana."

"Let's not forget how many times she's charmed Freed," Gray said, with a slight smirk in the green-haired man's direction.

"Not just Freed," Levy said, suddenly. "Remember when she charmed Master during the Fairy Tail race that one time, and got banned from participating?"

There was laughter. Real laughter.

"If that's not impressive," Evergreen started.

"She even charmed Laxus once!" Bixlow finished for her.

"And by extension, Mystogan," Freed nodded.

There were several more chuckles at the mention of Mystogan.

"That's right!" Natsu fist pumped at the table, determination on his face. "She's one of the most bad-ass women in this guild! So don't count her out yet! She can fight this! Especially if all of us believe in her!"

The mood in the room lightened, even if just so slightly.

Natsu's fist dropped and he nodded, satisfied with the result. He cast his eyes at the door that led to the infirmary, his face still set in determination.

"You can do this, Dreamer… We're all counting on you."

* * *

Jezran braced himself for what he would see. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when he saw her. He was familiar with bruised and battered bodies. He'd delivered a countless number of them to his father in a past life. Because of this, he was expecting Dreamer's body to be unrecognizable. He was surprised to find that, besides some sickly green bruises and old scratches, she seemed healthy.

The young woman was laying on a bed in the infirmary, tucked in, eyes closed. Her skin was paler than usual, and bruises colored her shoulder and cheekbone, but beyond that, she could be sleeping. The shallow rise and fall of her chest indicated that she was, in fact, alive.

If it could be called that.

"Now's your chance," Porlyusica said at his side. "You can leave or, you can stay and help me change her bandages, but if you want my recommendation," she scowled harshly at him, "then get the hell out."

"I need to see, dear me…" his voice was quiet, but firm.

"Fine. But you can't say I didn't warn you."

She strode forward and went to Dreamer's side. She did a quick check on vitals first, holding her wrist, ghosting her hand over Dreamer's body to scan for any problems. Then, she pulled back the blanket.

Her torso was wrapped tightly in bandages, masking most of her injuries. Porlyusica directed him to help hoist her up. It had to be done carefully, because she had a punctured lung that was still healing, not to mention broken ribs. He watched in pained silence as the older woman began to carefully unravel the bandages around Dreamer.

"Now, carefully lean her back."

He obeyed, gently resting Dreamer's head on the pillow.

"You might want to pull out your handkerchief now, old fool." She had only to remove one last layer of blood soaked fabric on Dreamer's chest.

"I have no need," Jezran replied. "I have seen more than my fair share of gore, dear me."

"It's one thing to see the blood of your enemies, Jezran. It's another thing altogether to see the blood of your family."

Regardless, she finally—carefully, delicately, with all the practice of a skilled healer—removed the padding from Dreamer's chest.

Jezran realized immediately that she was right. A hole in the chest of a common street rat would have been nothing to prince Excalibur, juice-collector of the Family. But a hole in the chest of his granddaughter… It caused the breath to catch in his throat, and his eyes to burn.

Porlyusica had been correct. It was not a pretty sight. It was an open wound with torn edges, akin to what a wad of tissue paper might look like after a pencil had been stabbed through it. There is a reason human organs are kept below the skin and bone, out of sight, and Jezran realized it was because the sight of them makes one's entire vision swim with blood until he feels as if he were drowning.

"I don't understand…" he looked away after only a brief glance at the cavity, in favor for resting his gaze on her serene face. "Is your healing magic having no effect, dear me? Should there not be a hole in her chest at this point?"

"That's part of the problem," she answered, with a sigh. "Whatever pierced through her was enchanted with dark magic poison. It completely deflects any spells I try to use on it. The only purpose my magic has at this point is to manage her pain. The rest is in the hands of my skills as a doctor, which thank Mavis, I have an abundance of."

She threw out the old bandages and looked down at Dreamer once more. "However, to say that I'm solely responsible for keeping her from falling off the brink of death would be inaccurate. In fact, my abilities are so limited that, if not for this, she would have been long dead days ago."

"Dear me, Porlyusica, to what are you referring?" He finally looked away from Dreamer's peaceful face.

"Look," she snapped. She gestured carefully at the hole in the girl's chest. "Look closely."

Jezran narrowed his eyes. He could see the edge of Dreamer's lung beneath ribs, where Porlyusica had mended it back together. Her heart beating in the center.

Her heart.

It was hard to see, at first, what with how generally messy and red a person's insides tend to be, but there was no denying it now. With each dull thump in the center of her chest, there was a pulse of red light. And, upon closer inspection, it wasn't a fleshy, chambered organ that sat cradled in the core of Dreamer's being.

It was a lacrima.

"That lacrima is the reason she's alive," Porlyusica said. "Not only is it a makeshift heart, but it regenerates her blood as it passes through it, essentially filling her body with healing cells. It also seems to be preventing her from infection, because, given the number of open wounds on this poor girl's body, along with careless transport over a period of three days to Fiore, it should have been inevitable that she would get an infection. However, this lacrima seems to be keeping her system clean."

"Sânge…" Jezran said the name quietly, as he wondered how this could have occurred.

"You know where this came from?" Porlyusica asked.

"Not precisely, dear me, but I have a fair idea as to _who_ it came from."

The old woman set to work re-packing and bandaging Dreamer's chest. "It doesn't really matter," she said. "The point is that, by some miracle, the woman is alive."

"How long will recovery take?"

She sighed, as if she was both irritated and exhausted. "Jezran, this is what I meant when I said 'all is not well.' Do you understand what else this lacrima means?" she shot her red eyes at him and cut him off before he could even answer. "Dreamer was impaled. Entry wound here, exit wound on her back. Thank Mavis, the spike missed her spine. Her heart, however, was not so lucky. If it had been, there would be no need for the lacrima. What I'm saying is that Dreamer _was_ dead. For some unknown period of time, she quite literally had no heart. The brain begins to shut down after six minutes without blood. I don't know how long it took before your Sânge put this rock in her chest, but if it was more than six minutes…" She closed her eyes and released a long, slow breath. "She may never wake up, Jezran."

"You are suggesting… dear me… that she may be brain dead."

"Yes. And if I'm being honest, the odds aren't in her favor."

"You did say, however," he measured his sentences carefully, "that the lacrima has been regenerating her, correct? Then perhaps it is also healing her brain, dear me."

"That's too optimistic," she scoffed. "It's a lacrima, not a miracle stone."

"The miracle is not in the stone, Porlyusica…" He gave a warm, mustached smile as he placed a hand on Dreamer's cream-colored hair. "The miracle is in the fairy." A pause, "I am confident, dear me, that dearest Dreamer will make a speedy recovery."

"Hopeful fool," Porlyusica chastised. "Turned soft by a couple of children…"

He chuckled at this comment. "Dear me, Porlyusica, there is no need to be quite so bitter. Innocent children are supposed to, by divine design, turn cold hearts to warmer things."

"Not this heart," she scowled as she worked. "Innocent is just a glossy way of saying 'ignorant.' And I have no time for fools."

"On that subject, dear me—" he started.

"Don't you dare," she snarled, with all the ferocity of a dragon. "We don't talk about that, ever, you old fool, do you hear me? Another word and I'll punch a hole through _your_ chest!"

"Oh, dear me, I understand, dear Porly." He chuckled again.

"And don't call me that! In fact, get out! Get OUT! I have to work on my patient and you're nothing but a nuisance! Take your foolish optimism and leave me alone! I don't want to see you again, do you hear me, Jezran?! The only reason I've tolerated you for this long is because I know how much you love these girls—but my patience has worn thin, so GO!"

He bowed low to the ground, in humble understanding. Before he left, however, he placed a bristly kiss on Dreamer's forehead.

He couldn't explain how he knew. He could just feel it. A hope. A light. Somehow, he knew that Dreamer was going to be okay.

* * *

 **A/N: Dear readers, I'm sorry for ripping your hearts out in the last chapter (pun intended). Thank you for hanging in there. ;)  
**

 **Shout out to howlingwolvesonfire for being so astute. xD The fact that you could remember a single sentence about Dreamer regretting the trip, from chapters ago, deserves a cookie or something. *claps***

 **And Simana, you asked about Resmond's dark magic and why it cut through Macbeth's reflector. It's really due to the nature of his diamond magic, not the dark magic. His diamonds have the ability to absorb magical energy. By enchanting them with dark magic, they are also capable of carrying dark poison and making explosions. I had meant to imply that his diamond magic also affected his dark abilities. Essentially, the type of dark magic he uses is able to negate magic due to the absorbing qualities of his diamond-make magic. I imagined them as a two-edged blade. The qualities of his diamond magic boost the effects of the dark magic and vice versa. I wanted to toy with the idea of enchantment and alchemy, which I may do more of in the sequel. I hope that makes more sense? It's the _type_ of dark magic he uses that makes him impervious to so many kinds of magic. **


	70. The Heart of a Dream

**Chapter 70: The Heart of a Dream**

 **16 Days Ago:**

 _The ruins are crumbling. With each earthquake, more rubble crashes to the ground. The Excalibur family is backing away from the debris. Slaves are abandoning the fight, knowing that they have lost. Preferring freedom over fear._

 _Sânge leans against the wall, the blood lacrima pulsing in his hand. He has stared at it for a long time. Sometimes, he lifts it to his chest, as if he will put it back. But then he stops._

 _This lacrima didn't make him strong. What if everything Black-Steel said is true? What if strength must be found in the heart? And not the physical heart. Certainly not a lacrima pretending to be a heart…_

 _He stands. The wall is collapsing behind him. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of blood. There is so much of it. Excalibur blood. Slave blood. He can smell the pungent scent of the poison-dragon slayer's blood. There is no mistaking Giseld's either. Another deep breath identifies Angel's blood, mingled with someone else's, a scent he doesn't recognize. He parts his lips to savor another taste._

 _His eyelashes flutter as a metallic scent settles on his tongue. This is blood he has tasted before. He recognizes it as the Night Terror's._

 _He wonders if the King has killed him. He swirls the scent around in his mouth, coaxes it into his lungs._

 _It is warm. It is alive. It is mingled with a heavy, honey-sweet blood-scent. He knows this is the blood of the woman he danced with. The child's aunt. Dreamer._

 _Her blood is growing cold._

 _He's not sure what guides him. He winces through residual pain from the battle with Gajeel. He unfolds his wings and flaps into the night sky, toward the top of the tower. Toward the scent of death. Perhaps it is the memory of her eyes. Pink eyes that shimmered with tears of rejection, so innocent and full of life as they looked up at him in the crowded ballroom. There was magic in those eyes. He knew this to be true because of her charm magic, but it was something more. It was the same alluring glow that shone in the eyes of all of these fairies. The same charm he had just witnessed in Gajeel's red eyes. The same bold glow that shone in Jezran's and Macbeth's eyes in the diamond cave. It was glorious._

 _He descends from the roof, where a hole allows him to land in the room below, enveloped by the overwhelming aroma of blood._

 _The Night Terror is holding her body in his arms. He is drenched in her blood. He is shaking, and screaming, and crying. He is begging her to wake up._

 _Sânge can tell by death-smell in her blood that she will not wake up._

 _Macbeth sees him and turns his gaze. He is broken. He is a lost child, trapped in a nightmare._

 _In a whimper that is almost pleading, he says, "She's dying."_

" _No," Sânge replies. "She is already dead."_

 _The Night Terror cries out. He buries his face in her hair. Sânge watches._

" _I can't lose her!" he shouts, so desperate. "Without her, I'm…" He looks at Sânge with a completely hopeless expression. "She makes me good," he whispers. He presses his lips to her forehead, as the tears cascade._

" _Dream, please! I lied! I'm sorry…" He is hyperventilating. He is lost in the darkness. "I do, my sweet Dream. I do... You know I do."_

 _Sânge's blood is pumping quickly. He has no heart to control the flow, but his magic responds in its place. He feels something welling up inside of him at this sight. It is as desperate as the Night Terror. It is a wild, terrified compassion._

 _Black-Steel… He had said, "_ Strength comes from protecting the people you love. It comes from helping those who need it, even when fighting for them puts your own life in danger _."_

" _Kobolse…" Sânge feels strange. As if everything he is witnessing is surreal. He is lost in a timeless moment with the Night Terror. The world is collapsing around them, but he is trapped with this man, his enemy, in the splintering wood of time._

 _Kobolse had protected him when he was weak. She had raised him when he did not deserve it. With selfless generosity, she gave life to the orphan. And Kobolse is the strongest being Sânge has ever known._

" _He was right," he says, with no bitterness. Only when Sânge stood up for the weak and innocent, could he ever consider himself strong._

 _Innocent, shimmering pink eyes._

 _He looks at the lacrima in his hand._

" _I can save her."_

 _Macbeth looks up. His lips are quivering; his terrified eyes are full of hope._

" _Please," he begs. "I'll do anything."_

 _Sânge approaches. Macbeth instinctively braces, defensively. Of course he does. He is a wild animal, intent on protecting its family, even when its family lays dead in its arms._

" _Her blood…" Sânge sniffs. "It has not been cold for long. There is a chance… I will try. You must let me try."_

 _Macbeth relaxes. He allows Sânge to approach. He lays Dreamer back, opening her chest to him, showing him the damage._

" _Look away, Night Terror."_

 _He does._

 _Sânge reaches in the cavity in her chest and pulls it out. What remains of a pierced heart. It is only a scrap of shredded flesh. It will never beat again._

 _But there is a pulsing in his left hand. There is a lacrima, its magical energy naturally growing stronger around all of this blood. Her blood._

 _Macbeth dares a glance back down, as Sânge lowers the lacrima into her chest. He holds it there, and watches as her torn ventricles, arteries and veins, naturally begin to wrap around the glowing magical stone. The lacrima is fusing itself with her, as it had done with Sânge._

 _He doesn't know if it will bring her back._

 _But he hopes._

" _Please, Dream…" Macbeth tucks hair behind her ear. "Don't abandon me…"_

 _Time continues to splinter._

 _And suddenly, her uninjured lung inhales deeply._

" _She's alive." He takes a deep breath, smelling her blood again. There is no denying the fresh warmth that is now pulsing in her veins. It is mingled with the magical scent of the lacrima, a striking similarity to Sânge's own blood-scent. But it doesn't matter. She is alive._

 _A stone brick clatters to the ground beside them. It is only now that they are aware of time._

 _Sânge slides his arms under her back to pick her up, but Macbeth's hand closes around his throat. His swirling eyes are panicked. Furious._

" _I must fly her to safety," he explains._

" _If you hurt her…"_

" _On my honor, I want only to protect her."_

 _To protect the innocent. To give life to a stranger as Kobolse had done for him._

 _Macbeth releases him._

 _Sânge flies her limp body out onto the battlefield. He declares his pure intentions to Arturus Excalibur as he lands before them and presents his limp offering._

" _You must save her," he says. "She is innocent."_

 _And when they take her, he returns to the tower. He returns as the floor finishes caving in, as the walls are imploding. He returns and catches Macbeth._

 _Macbeth is not innocent. He is not some weak, useless child who needs protection._

 _But he_ is _the only one who will protect Dreamer, until his last breath._

 _All Sânge cares about now, is protecting her. If that means rescuing the Night Terror, then so be it._

 _He leaves the Night Terror in the courtyard. They share a look. An understanding._

 _And Sânge takes flight._

 _As he soars in the sky, away from the rubble, away from the one he called King, tears streak from his own eyes._

 _He is smiling._

 _For the first time since Kobolse disappeared…_

 _Sânge feels strong._

* * *

It was like waking from the most peaceful sleep she had ever had. There was no rush, no panic. There was only quiet tranquility. Warm serenity. Her ascent into wakefulness was slow, paced, and careful. She laid awake for a while before opening her eyes, as her brain resumed function.

When Dreamer did open her eyes, she was looking out the infirmary window, warm sunlight on her face. Maybe that was why she felt so content.

Slowly, she processed.

She wondered why she was here. Her mind casually meandered into memory. It was like trying to recall a dream she had weeks ago. There were blurry images of battle, yellow eyes, black diamonds. Her memory told her that she had fought Resmond.

That couldn't be true, could it?

She wondered if it had really happened. Could she ever have been that strong? Her memories told her that no, she only fought Resmond with the help of Macbeth. She could have never done it without him. She wondered where he was now, as she stared out the bright window.

"Dreamer?"

A voice called out to her. It aided her into consciousness, like a gentle hand, pulling her from endless sleep.

Slender fingers touched her arm. A figure stepped between her and the sunlit window, crouching at the side of the bed. She was gorgeous, as always, but her ocean-blue eyes were full of fear and exhaustion. Dreamer had the instinct to take those feelings away from her, as she used to do when Lisanna disappeared.

"Mirajane," she tried to say, but her voice was a pained croak, as if she hadn't spoken for a long time.

"Oh, Mavis!" Mirajane's hands went to her mouth, tears immediately springing from her eyes, as if the ocean waves had breached a barrier. "You're awake! You're really awake!"

Dreamer didn't respond. She was too busy taking in the sight of her best friend and trying to understand why Mira sounded so surprised—so urgent.

"Do you know who you are?" her friend asked, panic now in her voice.

"…Of course?" Dreamer blinked as she tried to make sense of the strange question.

"Tell me where you are!" Mira demanded.

"The guild infirmary…" Dreamer's voice was getting stronger with each word she spoke, warming back up to being used.

"Who's the Fairy Tail guild master?"

"Uh… Makarov?" she raised an eyebrow. "Mira, why—"

"What's your last name?"

"Cumula. But why are you ask—"

"What was it like when Mystogan kissed you?"

Now _this_ jerked her right awake.

"WHAT? Mirajane, I've told you a thousand times that Mystogan and I never—"

"You're okay!" Mirajane interrupted, as the tears picked up again. "You're really okay!" She grabbed Dreamer's hands and sobbed onto the bed. Then suddenly, she stood upright. "If you EVER scare me like that again, I'll kill you, do you understand me, Dreamer?!"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, Mira! I promise—" Her own words were cut off by the sudden realization that she was in pain.

It wasn't as if it were a fresh wave of pain or something she'd done had caused her to feel pain. It was more like, the pain had been there all along, but she wasn't awake enough to feel it.

Until now.

"Ow… My, chest…"

Mirajane knelt back down, concern now shining in her eyes once more. "Be careful when you move, Dreamer." She placed her hands on Dreamer's shoulders and gently helped her sit up. "Porlyusica says it's going to take you six more weeks to heal."

"Heal?"

She glanced down at her chest, where the pain was coming from. Her torso was wrapped in tight bandages.

"What happened to me?" She was trying to remember, but it was difficult. She did her best to think back to the battle with Resmond, but… It was like she could only remember walking into the room with Macbeth, not anything that followed.

"You fought Resmond," Mira said softly. She was rubbing Dreamer's knuckles. "You _beat_ him," she clarified.

"Really?" Dreamer blinked and then rested her head back against the pillow with a smile. "I knew Macbeth could do it."

"No, Dreamer." Mira squeezed her hand. " _You_ beat Resmond."

This was an impossibility, so Dreamer laughed. Or at least she tried to laugh, until a stabbing pain in her lung informed her that laughter was not an option.

"It's true. Macbeth says… Or, well he doesn't really say anything. In fact, he hasn't spoken to anyone since you got back, but Erik listened to him thinking, and he says that you made Resmond feel all of your emotions—and it drove him so crazy that he basically broke the floor and fell through it."

Dreamer frowned. She forced emotions onto Resmond. Could she even do that?

Something told her that Mira must be speaking the truth. For some reason, Dreamer felt the strange sensation that her soul wasn't carrying any stored emotions. Which should be impossible, unless of course, she poured all of its contents into an empty husk of a man.

"But in the process, he stabbed you with a diamond spike…" Mira's bottom lip trembled at this. "We were all afraid that you might not wake up. You were in a coma for sixteen days."

"Sixteen days?" No wonder she felt so rested.

A thought suddenly occurred to her, shaking her to her core.

"Syllestra?"

"She's perfectly okay," Mirajane promised, with a smile.

That was all Dreamer needed to hear. Nothing else mattered really.

"Did anyone else get hurt?"

"Just a little," her friend answered, still massaging her hand. "Erik had to fight off some snake venom. He's an official member of the guild now, by the way. Gajeel had some broken bones, but he healed fast. Piper was mostly okay, just some cuts and bruises. Jezran lost a kidney."

"He lost a kidney?!"

Mira giggled. "Yes, but now he's up serving tea every morning, just like normal."

That was a relief, at least.

"What about Macbeth?"

"He's…" Mira frowned. "He's okay, physically. But I don't know about emotionally. He hasn't spoken to anyone and we don't see him around much. Not even Gajeel or Erik can talk to him."

This was concerning, but Dreamer tried not to ponder it too much.

"Maybe he's jealous because of your secret dragon-slayer lover," Mira teased.

"My what?"

"You must have _really_ charmed him," she said, eyes glinting. "To make him give you his heart, literally!"

"What are you talking about Mirajane?"

"Your heart, silly!" Mira jutted her finger toward Dreamer's wrapped chest. "You were impaled. You don't have a heart anymore. At least, not your own."

"You're literally not making sense right now."

"Sânge," she said the name like a prayer. "Erik says he saved you. He knows because Macbeth can't stop thinking about it."

"Sânge?" Dreamer touched the bandages on her chest with a frown. It seemed like a distant dream, but she was sure that was the man she'd danced with at the ball—the same one who tried to stop them on the bridge before they reached Resmond's tower. "I don't even know him."

"Sure, whatever you say, Dreamer~" Mira giggled. "No wonder Macbeth is so depressed. His beloved stole another man's heart." Her eyes twinkled, but they were gentle, too.

"Mira, I really didn't—"

"I know, silly." Her friend teasingly flicked her nose. "I don't care about that anyway." Overwhelming joy touched her eyes and cheeks. "I'm just so happy… so happy that you're okay." Fresh tears escaped the corners of her eyes. "You're really okay."

Dreamer rested a hand on her friend's, and smiled. "I'm okay, Mira. I'm sorry I made you worry." She soothingly stroked her knuckles for a moment before, "but what do you mean about my heart?"

Mirajane opened her mouth to answer, but at that exact moment, the infirmary door burst open.

Standing there, heaving for breath, was a very disheveled looking Piper. The unshaved half of his hair wasn't styled, his blue facial hair was stubbly and overgrown, he was in pajama pants and a t-shirt despite the hour, and he definitely smelled like cigarettes.

"Is it true?!" he gasped for breath. "Erik just said he heard Dreamy wake up—that really…" His emerald eyes found hers. "Dreamy…"

"Piper, you can't touch her!" Mirajane said quickly, her voice heavy with warning. "She's still healing."

Piper was across the room in an instant. He obeyed Mira, opting instead for grabbing Dreamer's blanket and sobbing into it.

"Dreamy, Dreamy! It's true! It's really true!" He was heaving with how hard he was crying. "I'm sorry, doll! I'm so sorry!"

She swallowed nervously, not really sure what to do in response to this. Awkwardly, she lifted her hand to pat his head. "What are you sorry for, Piper? I'm okay. See?" She willed him to look up and see her smiling. He did, but it only sent him into wilder sobs.

"Doll, I gotsta tell you's! I got smashed! I mean, I was hammered. I was three sheets to the wind, Dreamy—I was so damn drunk I was pukin' for three days straight! I know it ain't right, I know I broke almost four years' sobriety, but doll, I t'ought I lost you's! I wasn't t'inkin' straight!"

"Sh, it's okay, Piper…" she stroked his head. "I forgive you, okay?"

"Don't worry," Mira added, cheerfully, "Cana already punched him in the teeth for it."

"Yeah, and MJ dangled me from so high up in the sky I t'ought we was in outer space!"

"Really Mira?" Dreamer raised an eyebrow at her.

"He needed to learn a lesson," Mirajane shrugged, smiling as innocently as ever.

"What matters is you're sober now," Dreamer said with a gentle smile. "And you didn't lose me."

Her words sank deep into Piper. His emerald eyes sparkled with the intensity of jade reflecting fiery sunlight. His sobbing quieted, but didn't stop. He simply laid his cheek on the bed and cried, thanking Mavis over and over.

* * *

Dreamer had difficulty finding time to rest after that. Within the first few hours of being awake, she swore she was visited by every single person in the guild, even people whose names she didn't know.

"Is it true you really zapped your kidney with Resmond's magic?" she asked, when a familiar old face came to visit.

"It is indeed, dear me." He showed her the scar on his lower back, below a tattoo of a naked woman being eaten by a wolf (courtesy of thug-life as an Excalibur). She thanked him a thousand times for saving Syllestra. He shook his head each time, stating that it was something any great-grandfather would do. Then he offered her a white bread and mustard sandwich, which she might have taken, but she was on careful dietary restrictions put in place by Porlyusica, since she hadn't eaten solid food in over two weeks.

She was visited by Natsu and Happy—the first of which was overly proud of the fact that he "told everyone so" in regards to Dreamer getting better. He also went on to tell her all about the missions and adventures he'd had with Lucy and Erza and Gray, mentioning that it would be so cool to have her in their group for a couple of missions, except that he wasn't interested in having Macbeth on the team.

Gray and Erza visited together. Gray apologized to her for all the times he used her to charm Freed. Then he asked for a real date, to make up for all the fake ones. She promised to have lunch with him once she got out of the infirmary for good. Erza apologized profusely as well, even pledging lifelong fidelity to Dreamer since it was Erza who fell for the false evidence that had been planted by Resmond to suggest he would attack Fairy Tail, when all along he was trying to lure Dreamer and Syllestra to Pergrande.

Levy, Lucy, Kinana, Laki, all visited. Lucy summoned a crab spirit to do Dreamer's hair, since Dreamer complained about not even having a brush to her head for sixteen days.

So many came. The Thunder legion, Macao and Wakaba, Reedus, Max, Bisca and Alzack, Makarov, Warren, even Nab had the courage to make a face-to-face appearance.

The most important, however, was when Syllestra walked through the door.

"…Mommy?"

Dreamer weakly lifted her head. She had been trying to catch a moment of rest, after hours of chatting with crying and laughing guild members. But when she saw Syllest, all tiredness left her body. She was awake, she was invigorated. She was full of energy and unspeakable joy.

The little girl was staring at her with wide, wavering eyes. The first thing Dreamer noticed, besides those eyes, was her hair.

"Syllestra? What happened to your hair?" It probably wasn't the normal thing to say after sixteen days without seeing someone, but it was so shocking, that Dreamer couldn't help it.

It looked as though her hair had been hacked off with scissors, to later be shaped into a slightly less horrid, layered bob.

The seven-year-old ran to Dreamer's side. Unlike everyone else, she paid no heed to the "no-touching" rule. She climbed onto the bed and threw her arms around Dreamer and nuzzled against her with the happiest giggle and brightest smile that ever existed. It hurt, but Dreamer hardly noticed. She was smiling too, so happy to have Syllestra in her arms again. Her sweet daughter. Safe. Not strapped to a horrible device being drained of magical energy. Safe, and beautiful, and perfect, even with the new hair atrocity.

"Mom, I love you."

"I love you too, Syllest." She breathed against the girl's hair and held her close.

"Romeo helped me cut my hair," she declared proudly. "I didn't want to look like my dad anymore!" her expression was fierce. "He's not my dad! I hate him! I hate him for hurting my friends and my family!"

Dreamer's eyes welled with tears. "Oh, Syllestra… You don't need to worry one bit. You're nothing like that man was."

"Uncle Cobra says you beat him," she whispered, in awe, pink eyes sparkling. "You're the coolest mom, ever…"

Dreamer smiled warmly at the praise. She kissed Syllest's forehead. "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

The little girl's round face beamed up at her. Her eyes shone with total reverence, a look that said "I'll do anything for you, Mommy."

"Could you make me something? With your magic?"

Syllest's jaw dropped. Her eyes bugged. "You _want_ me to use my magic?! Did that dragon-guy give you a new brain, too?!"

Dreamer laughed out loud, then winced at the pain. She gently nodded.

"Really?! Okay! I'll make you something really special, I promise! I need some time to work on it so it's perfect! And I'll need Romeo's help, but I'll do it! You'll be so proud of me, Mom!"

 _I'm already proud of you, Syllestra._

"Mommy, did Macbeth come see you, yet?" Syllest asked.

"No, he hasn't." She shook her head.

"I think when he sees you, he'll be happy again. Everyone else got happy after they saw you. Macbeth needs to be happy because every time I see him he's crying and it's really sad and kind of girly too, you know? You're _my_ _mom_ and _I_ didn't even cry that much! Boys are so weird. They're super crybabies, aren't they? Mom, I have to tell you something but you have to promise not to be mad okay? I kissed Romeo, but you're not mad, right? I did it cuz you never know when you might get kidnapped by your dad and taken away from your friends! But it was funny because he ran away crying. See, all boys are crybabies, huh?"

Syllestra stayed with Dreamer the longest. Until Porlyusica came to chase her out so that she could change Dreamer's bandages. By then, Dreamer was so exhausted, she could barely keep her eyelids partially open and was nodding off while the angry old woman tried to teach her how to change her bandages herself.

Finally, she was given permission to go back to sleep. As her eyes closed, she stayed facing the door, watching it for as long as she could. After all, everyone in the guild had come to visit her.

All but one.

 _Macbeth. Come see me. I miss you…_


	71. Heal Together

**Chapter 71: Heal Together**

Four more days passed. Dreamer had been in the infirmary for almost three weeks now. The skin on her chest and back had fully closed, but she was being held together by stitches. She continued to wear tight bandages around her chest, primarily for the purpose of holding her together. The worst pain was in her chest, as her bones healed—sternum slowly melding back together to protect her new heart.

She was getting restless. She wanted badly to leave the infirmary and at least walk around the guild, but Porlyusica had placed strict limitations on her. The old woman had absolutely zero trust for the other members of the guild, and was certain that the moment Dreamer walked into the main hall, she'd be caught in the middle of some rival-battle between Gray and Natsu, or slip on the beer covered floor, or get tackled by well-meaning friends who were too excited to think straight. Plus, Dreamer was strictly forbidden from doing all sorts of activities that involved the movement of her upper body. She wasn't even supposed to lift her arms up, or lean back, or bend down. While she understood that these restrictions were vital, since she'd literally died twenty days ago, it didn't stop her from wishing she could get out—sleep in her own bed, enjoy tea in the morning with Team Derelict Heart, go on a walk with Syllestra…

The infirmary looked a lot like a glorified bedroom at the moment. Her friends had decorated it with an assortment of things to make her feel more "at home." As usual, the ceiling hung with origami dragons. A stack of Sorcerer Weekly magazines sat on the bedside table. Posters littered the walls, most of them with motivational words and pictures of cats. There was a hand-stitched pink comforter on her bed, along with a stuffed unicorn for "snuggling." A box of get well cards, and many other lavish, or obscure gifts.

It was nice, but Dreamer _did_ want to sleep in her own bed.

The good news was that it wouldn't be much longer. Porlyusica had gotten her on a regular diet again, taught her how to care for her wounds, and told her she'd be able to go home within the next few days if she continued to be careful.

It was dark, now. She wasn't sure what time exactly, but the guild hall had closed hours ago, and the sky outside her window was moonless. However, she did get to see the comforting glow of the garden lights from here. The same lights that Macbeth had put up, on a night that felt so long ago. The night they sat on a bench together, knees touching, lips drawing close…

She sighed. The action hurt her sternum. Macbeth still had not come to see her, and she couldn't deny how much that hurt. She craved his presence as much as she longed to get better.

She turned on the lamp next to her, and slowly sat up. Her sleep schedule was all sorts of messed up now. Despite the hour, she knew she wouldn't fall back asleep tonight.

Her hand ran through her hair and she scowled in disdain. Her hair was greasy and tangled, which was no surprise really, given that she was rarely allowed to shower. She'd been grossly humiliated the one time she was allowed to use the infirmary shower after waking up—since she had to have Porlyusica with her to wash her hair and back.

She glanced at the bathroom door now. She touched the bandage on her chest and spent a few minutes in internal debate. She resolved herself to being as careful as possible, before easing off the hospital bed.

Her movements were carefully measured. She picked up one of the nightgowns Mirajane had brought to her, a way-too-thin frilly red thing that resembled lingerie more than appropriate sleeping attire. But it was soft to the touch, and it would be nice to feel pretty after weeks being dirty, tired, and feeling generally disgusting. So, she took it with her into the bathroom.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, once the fluorescent lights had flickered on. She was still gaunt and pale, with some remaining bruises, but she looked significantly better than she did when she'd first woken up.

She hung up the nightgown, then took off her shirt, which conveniently buttoned in the front so that she didn't have to lift it over her head. She looked down at her wrapped chest and made a sound of irritation. She totally forgot that Carla had done the clasps up in the back.

With careful movement, she tried to reach back to undo them, but the sound of popping in her sternum and the accompanying stab of pain made her arms immediately drop.

So much for showering.

She sighed and walked back into the infirmary, nightgown in hand. She'd just have to get over herself and let Wendy or Carla or Porlyusica help her in the morning. She flipped the switch off to the bathroom, then closed the door quietly behind her, not because there was anyone around to wake up, but out of force of habit. Raising a child for seven years meant closing doors as softly as possible in the hopes that somehow she would be lucky enough to not wake up the menace.

She lifted her head and dropped her hand from the doorknob.

That was when she saw him.

"Macbeth!"

He was sitting on the edge of her bed. His head was down, white hair hiding his face. Ordinarily, this would be an indicator that he was fast asleep, but given the tenseness in the rest of his posture, she knew this wasn't the case. He was wearing a black hoodie and sweatpants—far simpler attire than normal. It was also evident that he hadn't straightened or done anything with his hair, because the curls were more pronounced than usual. He also wasn't wearing shoes.

"You finally came," she said, unable to resist the smile that spread across her cheeks.

He kept his head down, but gave a slight nod.

"I saw the light come on." His voice was just above a whisper.

"From the boy's dorm? So, you walked over here?" And in a rush, apparently. Hence the lack of shoes. She noted that his toenails were painted black, which should not have been as surprising as it was.

"I did. Are you going to mock me for it?"

"No, I'm happy." She walked toward him. "I missed you, Macbeth."

He tensed even more when she sat down next to him. Automatically, he turned away from her, though he didn't stand up to get away.

Dreamer didn't care. She was overwhelmed with the joy of being close to him again. At last, all the pieces were back together. Her family was whole.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and breathed in his strong, chamomile scent.

He was stiff and unmoving next to her. Even this didn't bother her. She was content in this long moment, just to hear him breathe.

"Were you about to change clothes?" he asked, after a while.

"Hm?" she didn't move her head. "No, I was going to take a shower," she answered. She appreciated his attempt at conversation. She understood why he was being so withdrawn, but at least he was trying. "But I can't reach the back of these bandages, so I gave up." She laughed quietly.

There was another long moment of silence.

"Do you need help?"

She blinked and straightened up. "No, it's okay. I can wait until someone comes in the morning."

Although she'd given her answer, he turned. He still shielded his eyes from her. "I'll do it," he said.

"No, no, really Macbeth, it's okay! Honestly! I don't want to shower right now anyway, because you're here and I missed you, so showering can wait. Besides, you're, well… you know, a _boy_ ," he cheeks took some color, "and I'd rather you don't see—"

"Shut up, Dreamer."

Her lips clamped shut. Macbeth was already positioning himself behind her, crossing his legs on the bed and staring at her back.

"What do I do?"

"Um… Just," for some reason, she was suddenly nervous. "Can you just unclasp those clips that are holding it together? Then, I can probably unwrap it myself."

She felt the bandages being fiddled with. She held still while he undid the clasps, feeling the fabric beginning to go slack around her. The sensation was freeing, but it also made her stitches feel tight.

"Thank you, Macbeth. I can do the rest in the bathroom."

But his fingertips remained, slightly pressed against her skin and the bandage. He began to reach forward to loop the bandage around her.

"You don't have to do that," she squeaked, both from embarrassment at the feeling of his hand sliding forward to uncover her breasts, and a sudden sense of panic at the prospect of him seeing the wounds that lie beneath.

He paid her no heed. He reached around her chest to unweave the fabric from under her arms. One loop around. Two loops. She swallowed a lump in her throat and lowered her head. She didn't protest further, though every time his knuckles brushed the undersides of her arms, she felt breath catch in her lungs.

She thought about talking to ease the tension in the room, but she didn't know what to say. She was afraid to ask him anything about the battle, about Sânge, or anything relating to recent events at all. After all, she had no idea how it all had affected him—but judging by his appearance and the consensus of the guild, it hadn't affected him well. Piper had told her he wasn't even sleeping in their room, that he was usually wandering the halls like a ghost, with hollow eyes and slouched shoulders.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked. His voice had been quiet and careful this whole time. It was making her uneasy.

"No," she answered, then with a slight lilt to her voice she added, "but I bet you want to."

His hands paused. She felt the distinct sensation of his breath being exhaled against her neck, in something like an exasperated sigh.

"I'm just kidding," she said quickly, even more uncomfortable now.

At last, the bandage was completely undone. She clutched the nightgown she was still holding over her now exposed breasts.

"Thank you. I'll take a quick shower if you… will you stay here? I don't want you to leave yet…"

He didn't answer. His silence was starting to get under her skin now. It was making butterflies of anxiety flutter in her chest, which did not need any extra activity happening inside of it now.

"Macbeth?"

She inhaled sharply when she felt his fingertips drag along her bare skin. He touched the skin of her back, trailing along the edges of what she knew was a less-than-appealing, scabby scar. Even so, the tender, uncertain pull of his fingertips on her flesh made goosebumps rise all over.

She scoured her mind for something to say or do that could possibly make this less awkward, but she didn't have to.

One hand went to her left shoulder and clung onto her, as if for dear life, nails digging under her collarbone. The other snaked back under her arm so he could wrap it around her stomach and clutch the skin of her hip. A wet cheek flushed against her back, above the scar. She felt his body trembling as gasping sobs overtook him.

"I lost you," he cried, in his childlike tone reserved for moments of terror. "You were dead! I held your lifeless body in my arms and there was nothing I could do to save you… It was too late! You were gone, and I was all alone…"

He shook violently, crying these words through clenched teeth—words that must have been aching to get out for twenty days.

"And that was when I knew…" His tears were wet against her back. "I realized what my worst nightmare is."

"Your… worst nightmare?" She didn't know what to say or do. She just let him weep against her, as the lacrima heart pounded in her chest.

"You can't abandon me, Dream! I'd be lost!" He choked on tears, crying so hard that his breathing was perforated with moans of panic. "All my goodness. All my hope…" He shuddered. She inhaled sharply as his cold lips pressed against her spine. Then he spoke again, in an almost whisper.

"You are my freedom."

"Oh." It was a lame response, but her mental processors immediately went blank with those words. Her body suddenly felt light and warm all over, full of sunlight. Four simple words—made her feel the glow of her lacrima heart from head to toe.

His fingers kneaded at the skin on her shoulder and hip. He continued to cry against her.

"Macbeth… look at me."

He lifted his head. Dreamer tried to turn around and face him. Seeing her struggling, he moved for her, coming closer—facing her.

At last, he met her eyes. She allowed herself to be lost for a moment in those swirling pools of blood. Bright red rubies. Burning embers. She could tell that he was as tired as she was. The circles around his eyes, the paler-than-normal tone of his skin. She noticed that he had a new scar too, from ear to collarbone.

Instinctively, she reached up to cup his jaw—to touch his wounds like he'd done to hers. And in an equally automatic reaction, he tilted his head, resting his cheek against her palm.

 _Calm. Peace. Safe. Joy. Trust. Relief. Happiness. Hope. Love._

She hadn't used her magic since she woke up, but she wasn't afraid to use it now. She was glad at the opportunity to do something for him—the wizard who stood by her side when she faced Resmond. The one who challenged and encouraged her to be braver, fiercer, stronger. The man who had given up his past, his old guild, his old name to be here with her. Who fought to protect not just her, but Syllestra, and the rest of Fairy Tail, too. The man she loved.

"Don't be silly, Macbeth…" she whispered, as his eyes flicked back and forth between hers, drinking in her emotions. "You found freedom all on your own. It's inside of you, and always has been." Her thumb stroked his cheek. "You've always had a beautiful heart. Even before I found you in the wreckage of Nirvana."

He savored her words. His lips parted, tears continued to roll as she spoke. But he wasn't shaking anymore.

"But for what it's worth," she continued, with a genuine smile. "I'm glad I get to celebrate your freedom with you. I'm so happy that I get to be at the side of such a good man."

"Dream…" He breathed her name like a prayer—in a way he'd never uttered it before. Broken. Husky. Longing. "My one sweet dream…"

She looked at his parted lips, noticed how the space between their faces had slowly receded. She wanted so badly to… but…

"Macbeth…?" Her lips parted too. "Did you…" The thump in her chest was profound, identical to a pounding heart. She felt tears threatening to form in her own eyes, but she willed them away. "Did you mean it? When we danced and I…"

"No." He cut her off. Then softer, "No… I didn't."

"So…" her cheeks felt hot. "Does that mean… Do you… How do you feel about…"

He cut her off again, but this time it was without words.

He closed the space between them and pressed his lips against hers. It was jarring at first, because of how unexpected it was. And neither of them moved for a moment. They just lingered in a pocket of time, as if they were each expecting the other to pull away.

Neither of them pulled away.

Instead, Dreamer released a sigh and she dropped her hand from his cheek, in favor of clutching his hoodie. She moved her lips against his, welcoming him, and this moment. He responded instantly, delving deeper into the kiss with her.

He tangled one of his hands in her hair. The other went to her waist, to feel her soft skin again. He savored the taste of her lips at long last. No teasing, no almost-kisses. This was real. This was his response to the unspoken question.

He didn't need to say it. Dreamer felt it. She felt the love in the way he moved his lips, as if he were relishing every second—soft, gentle, passionate. She felt it in the way he touched her, the way he stroked her skin. She felt it in the whimper at the base of his throat, and in the way he breathed her name in the space between kisses. She felt it like an aura around him, a wild, deep love. The kind of love that anchors you to another person. The kind of emotion that pervades space and time, brings people back from the dead, echoes into eternity. It was the kind of love that breaks apart the wood of time, because it doesn't follow arbitrary rules like time. The kind of love that some people only find in their sweetest dreams.

That's what this moment was. The sweetest dream. A dream shared together, of a hope, of a future.

She was feeling drunk off of it, the overwhelming power of both of their emotions. It caused her to breathe deeply in ecstasy, and wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer. She wanted to be as near to him as possible. She had waited so long for this. She had imagined the taste of Macbeth's kiss since before he had given up the name "Midnight." All his teasing and devious glances and smirks… She resisted the urge to moan against him as the passion overwhelmed her.

It was as she was tangling her fingers in his white curls and welcoming his tongue into her mouth, that her sternum gave a loud pop, accompanied by pain. She gritted her teeth and dropped her arms. He leaned back and looked at her with eyes swimming in concern. His cheeks were flushed, and he was panting slightly as well, which was nearly enough to make her plunge right back into another kiss, but she opted for listening to her body instead.

"I'm sorry," he said, as he scanned her over for any obvious damage.

"Don't be." She smiled, and looked down to check the scar on her chest. Luckily, she hadn't popped any stitches or reopened the wound. She must have just unsettled the bone a bit. "A little pain is worth it," she giggled. "I've been waiting for that kiss for a long time."

He looked at her face and smiled in response. The warmest, least sadistic smile she had ever seen on his face—hardly befitting of an ex-assassin.

"A little pain is worth it?" he repeated the phrase as he looked her over again, with a smirk beginning to play at the edge of his lips.

"What? What are you looking—" She looked down in worry, wondering if she had popped a stitch after all. No, the space between her breasts was just as it should be and… _The space between her breasts_ … Her totally uncovered, jutted-toward-Macbeth breasts.

"HEY!" She gave an 'eek' of surprise and quickly lifted the nightgown back up to cover herself, though the damage had already been done. The blood in her cheeks was boiling hot now.

"I'm pleased to see that your important body parts remain unharmed," he said, the smirk only growing wider.

"Really, Macbeth?" she deadpanned. "My heart gets ripped out and you're just happy I have my boobs?"

He laughed at this, then gave a shrug.

"Unbelievable. I thought we were having a sweet, heartfelt moment!"

"Technically, you can't have a 'heartfelt' anything, anymore," he pointed out, as the old glint returned to his eyes.

"Very funny." She huffed. "Am I going to be the butt of a bunch of 'heart' jokes now?"

"Gajeel already made a list of good ones."

"You're totally serious, aren't you?"

This back and forth banter was almost even more welcome than the kiss they shared. It reminded her that they were still the same. Something massive and life changing had happened, but their hearts hadn't changed. Well, technically her heart really had changed, but regardless…

"Are you going to shower?" he asked. "Would you like me to leave?"

"No!" she said, too quickly. "I mean… If it's okay with you… I'd really like you to stay with me the rest of the night."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Not like that, pervert!" If she could bend her body that way, she'd have smacked him.

"Can I sleep in your bed?" he cocked his head to the side, with the ever-present mischievous smirk.

"I… well… as long as you get out before people show up in the morning then I guess…"

"Are you going to wear that skimpy nightdress?"

"Mac _BETH!_ " She frowned super-hard to show her displeasure, before struggling to get off the bed.

"It was an innocent question, Dream." By the drawl in his voice, there was nothing innocent about it whatsoever.

She started for the bathroom door and heard him get up to follow.

"What are you doing?" a suspicious glance at him.

"I'm going to help you." This was said without the slightest hint of humor.

"Help me what? Shower?" she laughed, which hurt.

"Yes."

"N-No, you can just wait on the bed! Seriously, go away Macbeth!"

"No chance," he snapped. "And let your pride get you hurt? I won't let that happen."

The passion in his tone made her feel lightheaded again.

"Well… Okay, but… you're only allowed to wash my hair and my back, and you have to be careful around the scab and you have to promise not to be grossed out by it, because scabs get gross when they get wet. And I'm going to hold a towel over my chest and I'm not taking off my panties so don't get any ideas!"

"Whatever you say, sweet Dream," he taunted.

"A-And the same goes for you! Keep your clothes on!"

"I'm to wear this oversized hoodie in a steamy bathroom?" he asked.

"I… I guess you could take _that_ off, but…"

He held the door open for her, with that tender smile on his face once more. "Teasing you is so much fun, Dreamer."

She smiled back at him and wordlessly walked inside.

He obeyed the rules entirely. He didn't say anything while he washed her hair and carefully washed her back and massaged her shoulders. He simply served in silence, then turned around so she could do the rest herself.

There was a surreal sense of comfort in having him there with her, to help her while she healed. And it occurred to her, while she was standing under the hot water with his fingers splayed in her hair, that that's exactly what they were doing for one another. Helping each other while they healed.

He was helping her in a physical sense, yes, but it was more than that. All the pain and regret from her past—all the things she had never faced and had been too afraid to fight… Macbeth helped her. He stood by her side and helped to fight, to win, and now he would be by her side as she healed from the emotional wounds. Likewise, she had been at his side, while he fought the pull of darkness that chained him to Zero, to imprisonment in the tower, to a life without freedom. And she would continue to be at his side as he healed and atoned, and became the man she already knew he was.

He helped her dry off and put on her "skimpy nightdress." He held her hand as she walked back to bed, because she had complained about feeling dizzy. He turned off the lamp and crawled onto the small hospital bed beside her, and nuzzled against her like a tired kitten. They kissed again. A few times, though she couldn't say exactly how many. They were sleepy, lingering kisses, on the lips, the hair, the neck, the shoulders. Wordless reminders that they were, indeed, there for one another. Reminders that neither one had to heal alone.

Macbeth and Dreamer fell asleep curled up together on a hospital bed in the infirmary. They fell asleep under the unspoken agreement that they would heal together, side-by-side growing together along the branches of time, their names carved in the wood. Macbeth and Dreamer.

* * *

 **A/N: You guys waited 71 chapters for that kiss. I am astounded by your patience.**

 **Just a heads up! The next three chapters are feel-good filler, intended to lighten the load after the whole "Resmond kidnaps Syllest, Dreamer dies, the world is almost destroyed" arc. After that, we will have the final chapter of One Sweet Dream, which will be an extra long chapter, just for you! I can't believe it's been almost an entire year since I started posting chapters, and you all have stuck with me this whole time. *tears of joy* Let's run to the finish line together!**


	72. Middream!

**A/N: Here's some feel-good filler for you guys, to ease out of that heavy final arc, before our last chapter commences! Enjoy!**

 **And just to reiterate what I said on the last chapter, these three chapters are fluffy filler. Chapter 75 will be the final chapter, and it's an extra long special for you loyal readers who somehow managed to get through a 75 chapter story over the course of a year!**

* * *

 **Chapter 72: Middream!**

Ah, the gym in the boy's dormitory. It was always crowded on Saturday mornings. Working in a magic guild requiring all sorts of jobs with manual labor or battle, was demanding on the body, which was why so many members worked to maintain some semblance of physical fitness. Saturday mornings were especially popular because half of the men were there to sweat the alcohol out of their systems from Friday nights.

This Saturday morning was no exception.

More than a dozen men were gathered in the gym room. The air was heavy with steam and musk, and the view was of countless shirtless bodies and rippling muscles.

In one corner, Gajeel was doing pushups, beads of sweat dripping onto the mat below. Erik was nearby, punching a training dummy to keep his martial arts skills intact. Piper and Bixlow were spotting each other lifting weights. Elfman was lifting weights by himself, while checking his form in a mirror. Even Macbeth was present, doing sit-ups on the mat next to Gajeel (though, there's a distinct possibility that he was falling asleep between reps and had only done maybe ten sit-ups the whole hour).

In fact, now, Macbeth's eyes were closed, hands behind his head, and a slight smirk on his lips. He hadn't even broken a sweat, and seemed to have decided that he was done trying.

Erik punched the dummy a series of times. He paused, his eyebrow twitching slightly. He shook his head and continued with some hits and kicks, before he stopped again and closed his eyes.

"Can you be any louder?" he scoffed and gave up trying to focus. Then stepped to the wall and grabbed a water bottle.

"Who the hell are you talking to, poison-breath?" Gajeel grunted as he began doing one-armed push-ups.

"Macbeth," he answered, before tilting his head back and chugging from the bottle.

"He ain't said a word all morning," Gajeel pointed out, as he smoothly changed arms with nothing but a hop.

"He doesn't have to," came the snappy response. "I can hear it loud and clear, anyway." He leaned against the wall and smirked, panting slightly as he caught his breath. "So that's why you stopped moping around the guild hall, huh Midnight?"

Macbeth's smirk dropped. He opened his eyes, to cut them at Erik.

Gajeel's curiosity was piqued. He sat up and crossed his legs. He picked up a towel and wiped off his forehead, while looking at his friend next to him. "What? What's Beth thinking about?"

Macbeth's glare didn't drop from Erik for a moment. "Erik. Don't," he warned.

"Hey!" Gajeel smacked Macbeth with the towel he'd just used to wipe his own sweat. "You hidin' something from your best friend, Beth?"

They seemed to have garnered some attention from the nearby men. Piper glanced at them while he was spotting for Bixlow, then mumbled under his breath and rolled his eyes.

"I'm not hiding anything," came the reply. Macbeth threw Gajeel's washcloth away with a look of disgust. "I simply think this shouldn't be discussed in…" he sat up, his eyes slowly moved to Piper. "…current company."

Piper jolted at the words, causing Bixlow to drop the bar on his chest. The bluenette didn't even notice. He cracked his neck and scowled in Macbeth's direction. "The hell you mean, 'current company?'"

Bixlow hung up the bar and sat up. He ran his tongue over his dry lips and grinned from ear to ear. "Bet I can guess."

Macbeth closed his eyes and sat in his signature position, legs crossed, arms folded over his chest, but there was a bit of a pout to his lips.

"I _heard_ ," Bixlow said loudly, "that _someone's_ been sleeping in the infirmary, and it ain't just Debra."

Macbeth's lip twitched.

Piper's green eyes went as wide as plates as the gossip sank in. His temple pulsed.

Erik poured some water over his maroon hair and tan skin to cool off. He closed his eyes and bared a canine. "'She smells like key-lime pie and flowers,'" he mocked Macbeth's voice. "How cute."

Macbeth's eyes shot up and he lifted a hand, causing dark energy to close around Erik's throat. "Do you want to die?"

Erik didn't seem concerned in the slightest.

Gajeel listened. He tapped his chin in thought, as it took him an extra moment to catch on. Suddenly, he was shaking Macbeth by the shoulders.

"YOU BEEN SHACKING UP WITH DREAMER AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?!"

Macbeth's cheeks took color. His bottom lip jutted out and he pointedly turned his head away from Gajeel.

Piper's face turned red, then bright red, then purple, before he finally blew.

"HE'S BEEN _WHAT_?!"

Macbeth jerked away from Gajeel with an even more pronounced pout. The gaze he cast Erik could have killed.

Erik sat down his water bottle and wiped his mouth before frowning apologetically at Macbeth. "Hey, I'm sorry. I was an asshole for saying anything about it."

Macbeth said nothing, just averted his gaze.

"You don't have to be so dramatic," Erik said, with a hint of panic in his tone. "What's all this about 'betrayal?'" He was clearly still listening to Macbeth's thoughts.

Gajeel put an arm around Macbeth's shoulder and yanked him into an awkward, sweaty hug. _"I'd_ never betray your secrets, Beth." Said the man who had just screamed to the entire gym that Macbeth and Dreamer were "shacking up."

Gajeel was shoved abruptly to the side. Hands closed in fists on Macbeth's collar and hoisted him up, face-to-face with a fuming Piper.

"Is it true?" Piper's voice was low, with just the slightest of tremor underlying it. His eyes were hardened emeralds, boring into pools of blood.

Macbeth's face was totally void of emotion. He didn't even attempt to free himself, just reflected Piper's gaze back at him.

"You been sleepin' in the infirmary with Dreamy?" Piper reiterated.

"Yes." No emotion.

"Why?"

"She asked me to."

Erik was drying off his hair and maintaining a guilty expression. Gajeel was watching with a clenched fist, in case Piper decided to get too handsy with his best friend. Bixlow was going to the other men in the locker room to fill them in on the drama and turn their attention to the action that was unfolding on the mats.

"That all, bubs?" Piper asked.

No response.

"Just tell me up front, Mac. Man-to-transgender freak." Scowling. "Are you's and Dreamy an item now? You been snugglin' and swappin' saliva with my girl?"

Macbeth made a face of disgust at the crude imagery. But while his lip was turning down in a disgusted frown, his cheeks were taking color, and he made the mistake of breaking eye contact for half of a second.

Piper's fists clenched tighter—knuckles going white. "I need to hears it from you, Mac."

After a long, tense moment, Macbeth regained full composure. He stared at Piper, and with a completely straight face, no remorse, no feeling he said, "She's mine."

Piper let him go. They continued to face off, the challenge still flashing in their eyes.

"Good."

Macbeth inhaled sharply at the unexpected word.

"You's been leading Dreamy on for way too long, asshole! Bet she's happy now."

"She is," Macbeth informed him, without feeling.

"Look, I don't wanna know about it. You's can be cute together on your own damn time—I don't wants to see it, I don't wants to hear it, and you keep her the hell out of our bedroom, Mac or I swear to Mavis—" He started to clench a fist, then breathed deeply to compose himself.

"You hurt her and I'll kill you. I ain't playing, Mac."

Finally, some emotion shown on Macbeth's face. His lip twitched the shadow of a smirk.

"What if she likes being hurt?" he asked, in a totally villainous tone.

Erik choked on a swallow of water.

"Goddammit, Mac! You's know what I mean!" Piper's face flushed.

"I know," Macbeth said, seriously.

"I'll kill you, you's break her heart."

"It ain't like he can break her heart," Gajeel said helpfully from the sidelines. "Gotta have a heart for it to break."

Macbeth chuckled. Piper snatched the water bottle of out Erik's hand and threw it at Gajeel's head.

"You're bastards, all three of you's!"

"No one invited you to the party anyway," Gajeel gathered up all their things to go. "Come on Jazzettes, let's go practice."

"We're not the Jazzettes," Macbeth and Erik said in unison.

"Come up with something better, then!"

* * *

At long last, Dreamer could go home. Mira guided her to their shared apartment, practically skipping with joy. Through the front door, welcomed by the familiar scent of rose tea and warmth. Down the hall to her bedroom, which she was entering for the first time in over three weeks.

A sweat drop formed on her forehead.

"I tried to make it as welcoming as I could!" Mira said proudly.

"Why does it smell like you dumped a gallon of perfume on my bed? And what's with the flower petals everywhere?"

"You don't like it?" Mira sounded crestfallen.

"No, I'm happy!" Dreamer squeezed her hand.

More than anything, she was just happy to be in her own room again. She laid down on her bed. Her own, soft, familiar bed. The only drawback was… well, no more cuddling with Macbeth on the hospital bed… She blushed and shoved her face in a perfume drenched pillow.

"Look! I reorganized your closet and bought you some more dresses and blouses, and I thought you really had to have this one because yellow suits you!" Mira was digging through a closet that looked like it might explode. "And I got you some bras that clasp in the front but that are still cute so that you don't hurt yourself—don't you like this one? I love the red frills!"

Dreamer raised an eyebrow. "Where am I supposed to wear half of that stuff?" Why did it always seem like her friend was buying her lingerie?

"You could wear it for Mac." Mira gave a long-lashed wink.

"Wha—?" Dreamer was blushing all over again.

"I'm just kidding, silly!" Mira giggled and put the bras back in a drawer.

Dreamer swallowed nervously. She stroked the quilted fabric of her comforter, face contorted in thought. "Hey, Mira?"

"What is it?" She glanced over her shoulder.

"I… I have something to tell you." She patted the bed next to her. Mira was sitting next to her in half-an-instant.

"What is it Dreamer? You can tell me anything! I promise I'll listen and I won't judge you—that's what best friends are for." She grabbed Dreamer's hands and looked at her with sincere, shining eyes, then concern. "Are you okay? Does it have to do with the Resmond incident? Please tell me you're okay."

"No, none of that!" She gulped. "I-I'm fine. In fact... I'm more than fine, you could say."

Mira's ocean-blue eyes twinkled with curiosity. "What is it, Dreamer?"

"Well…" Dreamer's blush only deepened. "I… um… Macbeth and I… we _kissed_."

Mira blinked slowly, as the words registered.

"YOU KISSED?!" She squealed and bounced up and down on the bed, before flapping her hands in delight.

"Ah… yes." Dreamer rubbed her arm in embarrassment.

"You have to tell me _everything_!" Mira clutched a pillow to her chest and leaned close to Dreamer. "What happened? What was it like? Did he kiss you or did you kiss him? Was it romantic? Was it passionate? How far did it go? Oh my god, did you—"

"You can stop that thought right there!" she cut her off. "No, we didn't do t _hat_! Geez, Mira, what kind of girl do you think I am?" She pouted.

Mira sat up straight. She put her pointer finger in the air, like a lecturing teacher. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with sex on the first date between two consenting adults," she stated, with a smile on her face.

"Whatever! The point is, we just kissed!"

"Once?" Mira cocked her head to the side. "Or have you been kissing a lot? Are you dating?!" It should have been illegal for someone to be so excited about someone else's love life.

"We… a few times." She had the instinct to crawl under her blanket and hide. "And, well, we didn't exactly put a title on it, but… I _think_ so?"

"It's a dream come true!" Mira clasped her hands and gazed wistfully at the ceiling. "My ships really do happen! Middream is canon, at last!" A single tear fell from her eye.

"Oh, come on! It's not that big of a deal!" Dreamer smacked her with a pillow.

"Is he a good kisser? Was there tongue?"

"Okay, now you're just getting too personal!"

"I'm so happy for you, Dreamer!" She threw her arms around her and breathed a sigh of pleasure against her neck. "This is so great."

"Yeah…" Dreamer hugged her back, as much as she could without causing pain in her chest. "But, I'm kind of nervous."

"About what?" Mira sat back.

"Well, what about Syllestra? I mean, what if it's awkward?"

"Let's ask!" Mira cupped her hands around her mouth. "SYLLEST!"

"Mira, no!" Dreamer slapped her hand over the other woman's mouth, but it was too late.

"Yes, auntie Mira?" Syllestra skipped in the door with a juice box in her hand. "Hi, Mom!"

"Syllest!" Mira got down to her level, eyes closed and smile wide. "Guess what?!"

"Mira, no! I should tell her myself!" Dreamer protested, but Mira was too excited to hear.

"Your mom and Macbeth kissed!"

Syllest blinked and then looked at Dreamer before making a face of disgust, tongue sticking out. "Ew, gross!"

Dreamer gave an exasperated sigh.

"Wait, Mom! Does that mean you and Macbeth are boyfriend and girlfriend? Are you gonna get married? Is he going to move in with us? I like Macbeth, but I don't think I want him to live with us because Uncle Piper says he takes really long showers in the mornings, and how am I going to brush my teeth if Macbeth is in the shower?!"

"Syllestra, we are _not_ getting married!"

"Good! Cuz I wanna get married to Romeo first before you get married!"

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. It would be weird if you got married before me."

"That doesn't even—"

"OH! MOM! Me and Romeo really want to know! Does Macbeth take his lipstick off before he kisses you?! Or do you get gross black smears when you kiss him and then you have to go wipe them off so nobody knows? Except, you know Macbeth's lipstick isn't really black, it's actually like purple, he showed me that one time that he came over and did his makeup for me, he actually knows so much about makeup I think he should be a model. Don't you think he would be a good model? He's as pretty as Auntie Mira, maybe he should have one of those centerfold thingies in Sorcerer Weekly, except he'd look really silly in a bikini since he doesn't have boobies, and sometimes those pictures in there are nakey, which is why I'm not allowed to read them, and if I saw a naked picture of Macbeth I think I would throw up for three days straight—"

This time, Dreamer _did_ pull a pillow over her face and hide.

* * *

The next day, Dreamer was ready to return to the guild hall. She wasn't well enough to take jobs yet, but she wanted to be around the guild again. She wanted to catch up with her friends and hear the chatter of all the familiar faces. She longed to be immersed in the aura that was Fairy Tail. She could relax, have a cup of tea, maybe eat one of Macbeth's cakes. She'd chat with Lucy and Levy and Kinana. Maybe even play a game of cards with Piper and Cana (even though she'd never won a single time against either of them). She couldn't wait just to have a laid back, regular day with Fairy Tail.

If only she'd known.

She hadn't been in the main room for more than thirty seconds before she was bombarded.

"Hey girl!" Levy threw her arms around her. "Congratulations!"

Dreamer knit her brows in confusion.

"You're braver than me, I'll admit." Levy blushed slightly and scratched the back of her blue hair. "Still, I'm happy for you! Everyone saw it coming!"

"What are you—"

"Someone's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," Max said as he walked by with his hands in his pockets and a teasing smirk on his face.

Macao and Wakaba glanced at her, then back at each other.

"You got my jule, old man?" Macao asked as he held his hand out.

"You kiddin?" Wakaba puffed on his pipe. "You didn't win the bet!"

"Your memory must be failing with old age," Macao sneered. "I said they'd hook up after the Exaclibur trip."

"You said they'd hook up within a week of being home. Newsflash, Davey was unconscious for longer than that."

"It should still count!"

Dreamer's cheeks began to burn. "H-How do they know…?"

"Hey, Dreamer." Gray waved at her from a nearby table. "Serious question. Is Mac going to try and kill me if I take you out for lunch now?"

"Gray, darling, you can't take another woman out for a lunch date!" Juvia leaned over the table. She cut her eyes sharply at Dreamer. "And you! If you have any sense of loyalty to your beloved, then you will stop seducing my Gray!"

"But I never—" She still hadn't even taken three steps inside yet.

"Dreamer." Erza's powerful voice reached her ears. The redhead approached, out of uniform for once. Her hands were on her hips. "Is it true? You and Macbeth are now a couple?"

"How does everyone know?!" Dreamer said in a choked voice.

Erza's eyes shone. "I will have you know, Dreamer, I am an expert in love." She requipped into a giant heart costume. "If you ever need advice on the ways of the heart, allow me to be your teacher! I will never lead you astray!"

"You know, she ain't ever gonna need advice about the heart, red!" Gajeel shouted over the hubbub. "Since she ain't got one…"

Dreamer facepalmed as everyone laughed.

"True love…" Elfman's eyes watered. "It's so… MANLY!" He sobbed into Lisanna's hair.

Dreamer wasn't sure she'd ever been more embarrassed in her life.

"Hey, Bisca, Alzack, when are you two going to make it official like Middream?"

"Yeah, if those two weirdos can make-out, so can you!"

"Do you think he takes his lipstick off before he kisses her?"

Dreamer had had more than enough. She strode to the stage and climbed up before holding her hands out. "EVERYONE!"

All eyes fell on her.

"I have an announcement to make!"

"She's going to declare her love!"

"That's kind of awkward, don't you think?"

"They're sort of a weird couple, though."

Dreamer looked at all their faces and willed up her magical energy.

 _Sleepy._

There was a chorus of yawns.

"Weird… I feel tired all of a sudden."

"You too?"

Within moments, heads were on the tables, snores resounding, drool flowing.

Dreamer dropped her arms and sighed in relief. She was glad that was over. She'd never been more embarrassed in her life.

"How did you do that?" A familiar, dark voice called out to her.

"Macbeth?" She swallowed a lump in her throat and watched him weave between the crashed bodies to the stage.

"Doesn't your magic only work on emotions?" he asked, as he climbed onto the stage and faced her.

"What?" she shrugged in defense. "'Sleepy' is totally an emotion."

He smirked, black lipstick tugging on his cheek.

"They know," he said simply.

"Yeah…" she blushed and looked down at his white boots. "I'm sorry, I swear I only told Mira and Syllestra…"

"Why are you apologizing?" There was a teasing edge to his tone. "Are you ashamed to be seen with me, sweet Dream?"

"What?! N-No! No way!" She gazed over his lithe form, fur scarf, halter top and low jeans revealing midriff. Embarrassed, she glanced up at the ceiling. "I just thought… You seem like the type to want privacy about these things, you know? And it's not like we said that we're dating—"

"Aren't we?" He stepped closer, but kept his hands at his side, less than an inch between them.

" _A-Are_ we?" She tilted her head back to look up at him.

"Hey, Dream." He hooked his finger under her chin. "I heard something concerning today."

She was totally aware of the fact he had just changed the subject, but with his closeness and the sensation of sweet breath on her forehead, she couldn't protest. Or do much of anything besides wish he would bend his head just slightly, and part his lips, and…

"Someone said that if Mystogan were here, he would be so disappointed to know you were with me." His red eyes sparkled with an evil glint. Dreamer gasped and stepped back, instantly flailing her arms in defense.

"For the love of Mavis, how many times do I have to… Mystogan and I were never a thing! Okay, it was a really bad misunderstanding! I charmed him so he would teach me sleep magic but I was still practicing my magic effectively and I overdid the spell a little bit and basically it ended up being like a love spell and it was really awkward and I fell into the river and it was all just a huge misunderstanding I swear! We never—I never—"

"Dreamer." He pressed his finger against her lips, silencing her immediately. "I don't care."

She parted her lips in surprise. "You don—"

He took the opportunity, immediately capturing her parted lips in a kiss. She squeaked in surprised pleasure as he wrapped an arm around her lower back and closed the space between them, before lifting both hands to cup her face and tilt her head back, so that he could deepen the kiss.

"Still embarrassed?" he whispered, breath on her lips after they parted.

"Ah…" she didn't know what to say. She was useless jello.

A slow clap began in the crowd below. She looked over in horror to see that everyone had woken up, and were slowly standing to clap for them in dramatic fashion. There were catcalls and hollers, and finally a chant began to pick up.

"Middream! Middream! Middream!"

"Mavis, kill me…" She clutched Macbeth's coat and hid her face against his chest.

Several months ago, hardly anyone in the guild had known her name. Now, at the moment, she was the most popular topic of conversation, which was _not_ a welcome feeling. But still… She didn't care that much. What really mattered what Macbeth's arms around her.

"EX-ORACION SEIS ASSASSIN CAUGHT LIPLOCKED WITH A FAIRY TAIL MEMBER! THE SCANDAL OF THE YEAR!" A new voice rang out. "This is so _cool_! OH the readers are going to EAT THIS UP! Can you give us one more kiss for the camera?! Make it good, this is totally going to be the main story!"

"THERE'S A REPORTER HERE?!" Dreamer's eyes flashed in terrified fury.

Jason from Sorcerer Weekly caught a pic of her furious face. "Oh, that's good!"

"THAT'S IT!" Smoke billowed from Dreamer's ears and she leapt off the stage in what should be impossible strength, particularly for a recovering girl. "GIVE ME THAT CAMERA OR I'LL MAKE YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE A REALITY!"

Macbeth chuckled under his breath in amusement.

"Looks like you're rubbing off on her buddy," Gajeel pounced on the stage and clapped him on the back.

They watched her chase Jason around the guild hall with a broom.

"PARTY!" Makarov shouted from on a table—whom they hadn't even known was there. "Let's celebrate this uniting of souls!"

"Damn, does this guild do everything like this?" Erik joined Macbeth and Gajeel on the stage. "It's overdramatic as hell."

"Yes," Macbeth said, with an amused smirk—which was soft around the edges, filled with genuine happiness. "This is what fairies do."

"I should've just stayed in prison," he winced.

"I can put you back there real fast, poison-breath," Gajeel said, cracking his knuckles.

"Simmer down, big guy," Erik scoffed. "Or I'll announce to the guild that you and the bookworm are a couple, too."

"WHAT?!" Gajeel went bright violet. "I ain't dating that shrimp!"

"You should be," Erik shrugged. "Not that it's any of my business, but you two think about each other more than Natsu thinks about food, and that's saying something."

And so it went, in very typical Fairy Tail fashion.

Yes, that is what fairies do.


	73. MEG

**A/N: This is one of my favorite filler chapters in this whole fic. It's the accumulation of all the band practice, concert references, and general music gag I've used this whole time between Gajeel and Macbeth. Finally, the band has its first real concert! xD On the scale of ridiculousness, this is right up there with "Everyone Needs a Kitty Cat."**

 **I also threw in one of my favorite crack ships: Bixanna.**

 **And finally, the song I used in this chapter is a real song, one that's on my "OSD Playlist" that I listen to while trying to get in the mood to write the story. It's called Sleepwalking, by Bring Me The Horizon (warning before you look it up, it *is* metal). The song, and the singer, really remind me of Macbeth. 3 (Can you tell how much time and care I put into this 75 chapter monster? :D)**

* * *

 **Chapter 73: MEG**

A poster had appeared in the center of the guild hall job board overnight. A group of Fairy Tail members were gathered around it, stroking their chins in thought.

"Who the hell is Meg?"

"And why is she coming to the guild tonight?"

The poster depicted a metallic skull and crossbones, with a red snake coming out of one of the eye sockets, and a pink rose adorned on the top of the skull. Above it, in some horrific, bleeding script was the word "MEG." Below the skull was today's date and a time. "8:00 PM Main Stage Guild Hall." And then in fine print, scribbled as if last minute by someone with awful penmanship were the words, "free admission for Kina, Dream, Levy, oh and Lisanna I guess."

Speaking of Kinana, Dreamer, and Levy, the three of them were sitting at a table near the bar, drinking pink lemonade.

"Does he do anything romantic for you?" Levy was asking, leaning over the table close to Dreamer, who was about as pink as her lemonade.

"Macbeth? Romantic?" she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "No. Not even in my dreams."

"Oh, I feel you, girl," Levy nodded her head in understanding. "Some boys are just… rough around the edges, you know?"

"Arrogant," Kinana added in agreement.

"Yeah, some of them are as hard-headed as iron," Levy sighed.

"Or sadists," Dreamer sipped her lemonade.

"Selfish, in general," Kina said.

"Obnoxious," Levy.

"They hear but they never _listen_ ," Kina.

"Or they listen but they don't care," Dreamer.

"Or they act like they don't care when they obviously do, right?" Levy.

The three girls all stared at their lemonades and gave a deep sigh, in unison.

"Hey!" a high-pitched voice called out to their table. Lisanna slid onto the bench next to Dreamer and beamed at the three of them. "Are you guys going tonight?!"

Dreamer blinked at her. It always took her a good ten seconds to adjust to Lisanna's presence in the room. "Going where?"

"To the concert of course!" Lisanna slapped a poster onto the table. They all gazed down at it and read the strange contents (along with the invitation to them specifically).

"What's… Meg?" Kinana narrowed her eyes at the poster.

"Oh come on!" Lisanna bounced up and down like an overexcited kitten. "You can't figure it out?! It's the name of Macbeth's band!"

"Oh!" They said, simultaneously.

"Wait," Levy touched their names on the bottom of the poster. "Were we invited specifically because Erik, Macbeth, and…" she blushed slightly, "Gajeel are in the band?"

"And Bixlow!" Lisanna cheered.

They all stared at her as crickets chirped in the background.

"What?" her cheeks took some color and she glanced away.

"We can't say no to a free concert…" Kinana said quietly, as she nervously combed her hand through her purple hair.

"We might need to bring earplugs though," Levy pointed out, then sent Dreamer an apologetic look. "No offense."

"None taken!" She sweat-dropped. She didn't blame them for not being able to handle Macbeth's, uh… _singing._

"Well?!" Lisanna slapped her hands on the table. "Are you going or not?!"

"Um, yeah! Y-yeah, why not?" Levy shrugged, trying to look far less excited than she was.

"Then let's go shopping!"

"Shopping?" Kinana blinked.

"We need cute concert clothes, don't we?!" She sprouted cat ears, one of which twitched in excitement. "What if we get a special backstage meeting with the band?" She smirked suggestively.

The other three faces were now bright red and steaming.

"W-Well…" Levy stood up and stretched her arms in faux casualness. "I could always use some new clothes, haha…"

"Um. Me too." Kinana stood up as well.

Dreamer did _not_ need new clothes in the slightest. She lived with Mirajane after all. But… "Sure, I can go with you guys."

* * *

 **Fairy Tail Guild Hall: Main Hall Backstage Dressing Room**

 **7:08 PM**

Bright bulbs of burning light lit up the mirror lined room as four men got dressed and prepped for their first official appearance.

Gajeel was trying to wiggle into a pair of overly-tight black-leather pants, lined with metal studs.

"Damn, how the hell do you get into shit like this, Beth?" He couldn't seem to get them over his butt.

Macbeth was applying black lipstick, carefully as he leaned across a make-up strewn counter and looked in the mirror. "Don't wear boxers," he said, without glancing over.

"The hell am I supposed to wear then?!" Gajeel accidentally popped the button off the pants and cursed.

"Go commando, big guy," Erik suggested. He was pulling on black wrist-warmers.

"In leather?!" Gajeel gave an affronted expression.

"You're the one who wanted to wear leather," Bixlow commented as he pulled a beanie over his wild haircut.

Gajeel mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and stared down at the pants for a long moment. With an exasperated sigh, he turned his back on the other men and stripped out of the leather pants and his boxers.

Macbeth saw him out of the corner of his eye as he was applying eyeliner. He smirked. "Oh, Gajeel…"

"Shut the hell up and stop starin' at my ass, Beth!" Gajeel snapped in immediate response.

"Don't play coy, Gajeel," Erik said as he began to slather gel in his maroon hair. "You know you like it."

Gajeel zipped the pants and proceeded to chuck a tennis shoe at Erik's head, which missed and smacked the mirror instead.

"Midnight, you should hear the kinds of things Gajeel thinks about," Erik continued with a wicked smirk. "The things he wishes you'd do to him."

"THAT'S NOT EVEN REMOTELY TRUE!" Gajeel's face went red with fury.

"I'm not surprised," Macbeth said with a casual shrug. "What we have is special, isn't it Gajeel?"

"It sure as hell is, but it ain't gay!"

"Simmer down, metal-head," Erik laughed out loud. "You're too easy to screw with."

"Both of you shut up," Macbeth snapped. "If one of you makes me mess up my mascara, I swear on the name of Zeref, I will murder you."

"We don't swear by Zeref anymore," Erik touched the Fairy Tail mark on his neck. "Good guys, remember?"

Macbeth's eyes flashed red in the mirror. "If you ruin my makeup, I assure you, I will not be 'good' in the slightest."

Erik and Gajeel took this threat very seriously. Their lips clamped shut. The four of them continued to fix their appearances in relative silence. Until, at last, they were dressed to perform.

Bixlow was in beanie, white jacket, black jeans, spiked belt.

Erik: blood red shirt, black wrist-warmers with painted claws, white baggy pants, and a pair of noise-canceling headphones.

Gajeel: Shirtless but for an open, black fur jacket, bandana, choker collar, studded belt and black leather pants.

And Macbeth, lead singer dressed to the max: Tall black combat boots, black leather pants, buckles everywhere—buckles and chains and studs. Black leather jacket with a purple underside that hung past his knees, complete with a hood. Gray shirt, black choker, and his dream catcher necklace, of course.

"Ten minutes to showtime, dear me!" Jezran's voice called from beyond the door.

"Thanks manager!"

"That's enough time," Macbeth said, as he opened his makeup case back up. "Gajeel. Come."

"What? Oh, hell no. I'm not putting on makeup, Beth."

Macbeth turned around so fast that his leather jacket swung like a cape in the air. His swirling blood eyes burned with the fires of hell.

"You will let me apply makeup unless you would like to look like a washed-out sheet of metal in the stage-lights."

"I don't give a damn if I look like—"

Macbeth began to approach, a dark cloud seeming to hang in the air around him. Black energy made his hair sway, and the dark circles of eyeliner around his eyes look like bottomless voids.

"Gajeel Redfox, you will let me do your makeup, or I will cast you into an eternal nightmare where the only music you'll ever hear is waterlogged saxophones, and every piece of metal you'll eat will taste of rotting skunk carcass, and everywhere you look you will find newspaper articles all filled with the same headline article about the day Salamander beat you in a hotdog eating contest—"

"ALRIGHT I GET IT!" Gajeel's face was white as a sheet. "Just… Don't overdo it, alright?" He sat obediently in front of Macbeth.

"He doesn't want you to make him look like a fool in front of Levy," Erik helpfully said.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you when to keep your mouth shut, poison-breath?"

"Nah. Raised in the tower of heaven by slave-drivers, remember? Didn't your mother ever teach you not to make tasteless 'mother' jokes?"

"The joke's on you, scaly," Gajeel snapped back. "I didn't have an old lady, either."

"Shut. Up." Macbeth yanked Gajeel by the hair to make him hold still. "We have less than seven minutes before we put on this performance and if it fails because you two can't get along, you will regret it for the rest of your miserable existences."

"Ooooh, Mac's scary!" Bixlow laughed out loud, showing his tongue.

"He always gets like this before he performs," Erik said. "Especially when he's got someone to impress."

Macbeth narrowed his eyes and tried to focus on putting eyeliner on Gajeel, who was blinking as if he were being pepper-sprayed.

"Can you blame him?" Bixlow stretched out. "Babes dig a Rockstar," he smirked lewdly at the mirror. "I'm hoping to be more popular after this is over. If I'm real lucky, I might get a kiss from Lis." He ran his tongue around his lips.

"Yeah right," Gajeel scoffed. "No one cares about the bassist."

Macbeth smacked him for turning his head.

Gajeel pouted. He could keep his mouth shut for a good sixty seconds before he had to talk again.

"I still think we should've been called GEM and not MEG…"

"Shut up, Gajeel," Bixlow and Erik said together.

"Yeah, my name's not even in the acronym!" Bixlow pointed out as he finished tying his shoes.

"I already told ya, it's because nobody cares about the bassist!"

"Done." Macbeth sat back and looked at his masterpiece. He smirked proudly.

"Look at that," Erik commented. "And here I thought nothing could fix that level of ugly."

"Say that again, you pointy-eared, beady-eyed freak!"

"Dear me!" Jezran's head popped in the door. "It's show time!" He waved his top hat, indicating for them to hurry up.

"Whoa, whoa, what about Erik's makeup?!" Gajeel protested as Macbeth yanked by the wrist toward the door.

"No time."

"Wha—that's bullshit, Beth!"

* * *

The Fairy Tail guild hall was jam-packed. The lights were dimmed. The chairs and tables had all been moved out to make room for the massive crowd. Half of the people present weren't even members of the guild. It seemed like citizens from all over Magnolia were there to see the premiere of MEG. The big debut they'd been waiting for—since about 10:00 that morning anyway.

Dreamer, Levy, Kinana, and Lisanna were all crowded together in front of the stage. Not because they'd purposely shown up three hours early to make sure they had the best spots or anything…

They'd worked very hard on their goth-chic looking tights, boots and heels, midriff showing tanks, and messy down-dos, because Mira said that's what you wear to a rock concert. She was also the one who suggested Dreamer wear the cat collar with the "Middream" tag hanging on it. Dreamer wasn't wearing it, obviously, because that would have just been ridiculous, but… well, she might have had it in the back pocket of her jean shorts…

"Why is my heart beating so hard?" she asked, as she stared anxiously at the stage curtain.

"Can it do that?" Kinana asked.

"Do what?"

"Does the lacrima really pound in your chest, or is that just a figure of speech?" Levy clarified.

"Can we just forget about the lacrima-for-a-heart thing?!" Dreamer groaned. "The point is—"

"It's starting!" Lisanna hopped up and down, waving a cat-tail in the process.

The crowd suddenly got very quiet. Smoke billowed up from somewhere. Laser lights began to reflect off the ethereal fog. The lights dimmed even further, and the stage curtains began to open…

Suddenly, the room went pitch black. There was the sound of small gasps, and the echoing thump of boots onstage, coming closer to where the four girls were now clutching onto one another for dear life.

An electric bass gave a deep thrum, which made Lisanna quiver with excitement. A few beats of a drum, which made Kinana inhale sharply, then a long pause before an electric guitar began to play a lone, wildly fast tune.

At long last, when the tension had reached a breaking point… When everyone in the room was holding their breath… When Dreamer was overwhelmed with the sense of everyone in the room feeling skyrocketing anticipation..

The lights flashed on, revealing the band—and revealing Macbeth, close enough to reach out and touch, with a hood drawn over his eyes and the mic clutched in both hands.

He started to scream.

The room immediately burst with life! Jumping, dancing, screaming, fist pumping. The first song wasn't even over before Erza started the moshpit. Beer sloshing, blood spilling, people trying to imitate Macbeth's guttural roars. When things got too out of hand in the room, Elfman would shoulder his way through (dressed in guard uniform) and put people in their place.

"Woohoo! Go Bixlow!" Lisanna waved her hand frantically toward the right side of the stage. He saw her and responded with a wink and a lolling tongue.

"This is awesome!" Levy shouted.

"What about a possum?!" Dreamer yelled back.

"I think she said this is awful!" Kinana yelled.

"Pawful? That's punny!" Lisanna flashed a paw.

At one point, Macbeth and Gajeel parted to the sides of the stage and the spotlight landed on Erik as he performed a wild drum solo. When he was finished, he kissed one of his drumsticks and tossed it into the crowd—right into Kinana's open hands. There were hearts pulsing in her eyes as she clutched the drumstick against her bosom.

"H-He's so COOL!"

Something of similar caliber happened during the next song, when Gajeel gave a guitar solo. He strutted up to the front of the stage, past Macbeth. He tossed his hair back, and his fingers began to race across the frets. Sweat dripped down his neck, veins stuck out on his muscles as he focused all his energy into the solo. Dreamer grabbed Levy's shoulders and switched places with her so she could stand closer to the stage. The bluenette was starstruck, her wide eyes scanning up and down Gajeel from his bare chest to his leather pants. After he was done strumming, he parted his lips and panted for breath, before he glanced down and saw Levy staring up at him. It was obvious, even in the lighting and with the layer of powder on his face, that he blushed—but to play it off, he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and then tossed his guitar pick to Levy, who was too paralyzed with awe to even catch it (so Dreamer had to do it for her and then slip the pick in her pocket). Gajeel then turned and strutted back to his spot left-stage.

"Whoa, stay with me, Levy!" Dreamer caught the other girl as she started to faint.

Kinana, Levy, and Lisanna were now officially fangirling. Dreamer was a bit more reserved about her excitement, but that might have been because she hadn't gotten any special attention from her personal star yet. Not that she was jealous or anything… She just… sort of wished those swirling pools of blood would glance down, just once.

The concert rolled on. Several songs in, the band transitioned into something new. For this song, Macbeth took centerstage, walking all the way forward. The pace was different, the song starting off gentler than any of the others so far. And there was significantly less roaring and screeching, and a bit more of Macbeth actually singing, not screaming.

Something about this song grabbed her attention. She might have been imagining it, but she thought that she could feel something in Macbeth as he sang this one—a deeper passion than in the others. So, she tried to focus on the lyrics as she watched him sing.

" _Take my hand and give me a reason to start again"_

Dreamer gasped when he opened his eyes and looked directly at her for the first time all night. There, his gaze lingered, as he sang the next verses.

" _Time stands still,_

 _Time stands still..._

 _Your eyes are swallowing me_

 _Mirrors start to whisper_

 _Shadows start to sing_

 _My skin's smothering me_

 _Help me find a way to breathe_

 _It's like I'm sleepwalking."_

She had to look away from the intensity of that gaze, but her cheeks were on fire now. She had a very strong feeling that this song might have been written for her…

By the time the concert was over, the guild hall was in shambles. More than half of the Fairy Tail members were strewn in unconscious piles on the floor. Chairs were broken, glass was shattered, the hardwood was sticky with beer. Erza stood in the center of what had been the moshpit, where she was breathing heavily with her hands on her hips, and a victorious grin on her face. Clearly, she had been the only one to survive the pit…

Gray and Natsu had apparently punched each other unconscious, because their arms were locked together and they were snoring on top of one another while Happy drew mustaches on their faces in sharpie.

Piper was hoisting a red-faced Cana over his shoulder to take her to a bed or couch to sleep off the alcohol.

Elfman was still escorting drunk people out the door and to safe means of transportation back home. It sounded like he'd memorized an entire "don't drink and operate a magi-vehicle" speech.

The four VIP girls lingered by the stage, even though the band had already given their final bow and disappeared behind the curtain. They were glancing back and forth from one another, as if debating whether to go hunt down the members of MEG.

"Come get your MEG merchandise outside!" Mira's cheerful voice echoed. "Signed T-shirts and photos!"

Every single person who had been unconscious a moment ago was suddenly rushing out the door.

"Whoa! They have a demo CD?"

"Look at the t-shirt design!"

"I like that, it's very… abstract!"

Macao was holding up a white t-shirt with uninterpretable scribbles on it.

"It looks like… a hot air balloon playing with drumsticks," Wakaba said, as he leaned forward to inspect the shirt, and puffed on his pipe.

"No way, ya blind old geezer!" Macao scoffed. "It's an apple with a worm wrapping around it."

"Oh yeah, smart guy? If that's a worm than what the hell is that on top of the apple?"

Behind them, Mirajane was standing with a painted-on smile and twitching eyebrow, tears beginning to well in her eyes.

"It's abstract art! How the hell should I know?!"

"Did you draw these designs, Mirajane?" Evergreen asked, as she held up a woman's version of the same shirt.

Mirajane simply continued to smile, though tears were now streaming down her cheeks.

"UH!" Macao and Wakaba gulped.

"Look what you did, idiot!"

"You're the one who insulted the design!"

"It's supposed to be the band symbol…" Mira looked sadly at the poster in her hands, which depicted the metal skull, snake, and rose—and looked absolutely nothing like the design on the shirts.

"Yeah, of course it is!" Macao laughed nervously.

"We were just messin' with you, Mira!"

Nearby, Jezran was sitting at a desk counting jule with a mustached smile. "Oh, dear me, dear me. I shall be able to buy a new hat!" He paused and scratched his chin. "Wait, I was already a billionaire, dear me. Hah, oh well!" He shrugged and continued to count, all while humming a happy tune.

While lines of people were buying band merchandise, the side doors opened, and out walked Gajeel, Erik, and Bixlow.

"AAAAH! ITS MEG!"

"Take it easy, kids!" Gajeel popped on some sunglasses despite the fact it was the middle of the night. "We'll start signing stuff at that table over there."

"GAJEEL PLEASE SIGN MY SHIRT!"

"ERIK CAN YOU DRAW A SNAKE ON MY CHEST?!"

"BIXLOW! BASSISTS ARE THE BEST!"

"We couldn't have made it this far without you," Gajeel shouted.

"Gajeel, c-can I have y-your bandana?" A twitterpated fangirl asked, with two of her friends on either side, all giggling like hyenas.

"Sorry, ladies," he adjusted his sunglasses and passed them a shining white grin. "I ain't giving this bandana to no one."

The girls ran off sobbing, nearly toppling over Levy as she shoved through the crowd.

"Gajeel!" she smiled brightly at him. "That was so—"

"Ah, there you are, shrimp. Take this, will ya?" He tossed her his bandana. For a moment, her eyes were the size of plates, her cheeks turned cherry pink, and her lips quivered as she held the sweaty scrap of fame in her hands. "Would you throw that in the laundry for me?"

The illusion shattered.

"Gajeel…" She clenched her fists and fumed. "Why do _I_ have to do your laundry?! Don't you know how to run a wash machine? Don't think because you get one night of fame you can suddenly start telling other people what to do! Where's Pantherlily, anyway? Are you making him carry the band equipment? That's just wrong, you know? You shouldn't use the people who care about you like that, or you'd better at least show him some appreciation for all the—"

Erik elbowed Gajeel hard in the side while he was getting his lecture. "I'd run. She's not planning on stopping any time soon." He whispered to the other dragon-slayer.

"Later, kid!" Gajeel turned on his heel and ran for the door.

"Gajeel? GAJEEL WAIT!" Levy charged after him.

"Hi, Erik…" Kinana was next up in Erik's line, holding a CD for him to sign.

"Hey, Kinana," he grinned. His eyes scanned her over, unashamedly. She blushed and covered her chest instinctively at his gaze. "I like your outfit."

"R-Really?" she blushed harder, before tugging on a strand of purple hair. "I wasn't sure if I should wear tights or not, b-but… Well, I lost a few pounds and I thought—"

Erik jumped over the table and grabbed her wrist. She gasped in surprise as he began to tug her away from the table.

"Hey! What about the rest of us in line?!" Max yelled in protest.

"Screw you!" Erik shouted back.

"E-Erik, where are we going?"

"Out to get you some ice cream." He didn't look at her, just tugged her along, almost like an excited little boy.

"No, Erik! I can't! My—"

"Kinana." He slipped his hand down and interlaced his fingers with hers. "I could hear your stomach growling from a mile away, don't act tough."

"But I—"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't care about what you look like?" He cut her off, sharply. "Just forget about that and have some fun with me like good old times, eh Cubellios?" He squeezed her hand and turned his amethyst gaze on her.

She beamed brightly back at him, and gave his hand a light squeeze in response.

Bixlow was the only one left at the table, and he was making no effort to hide his attempts at flirting with Lisanna. In fairness, she was making no attempts at hiding her attempts either. At least, not until demon talons grasped Bixlow by the shoulders and lifted him into the air.

"TOUCH MY SISTER AND I WILL RIP YOU TO SHREDS," demon-form Mira roared.

"Big sis, we're just talking!"

* * *

Meanwhile…

Dreamer peered around one of the doors backstage. It was eerily quiet back here. Everyone was out at the merchandise tables, it seemed. Everyone except…

"Macbeth?"

 _Where could he be?_

She tiptoed along the halls, glancing into rooms she passed.

"I just wanted to congratulate you on your concert!" she called. "You did really well!"

There was no response.

"Macbeth?"

"You called?" His taunting voice crept over her shoulder. She squeaked and jerked around. He was so close that their noses were almost touching after she'd done this. Of course, he was smirking darkly at her reaction.

"Oh! You scared me!"

"Did I really?" His eyes lit up at this.

She opened her mouth to respond, but found herself staring silently at him instead. The dark leather jacket and pants, buckles… The extra black lipstick and eyeliner that made his red eyes pop even more than usual. His hair hanging over his face… She noted to herself that the black portion had grown quite a bit since she first brought him to the guild.

"Y-You did really well out there," she said, as she tried to regain composure. "I'm proud of you."

"I didn't do it to impress you," he said, a bit too forcefully.

"I didn't say that you did?" She swallowed nervously. _Look away from his mouth, Dreamer! Come on, you're being so obvious right now!_

She didn't even realize he'd been walking her back into a wall until it brushed her spine. She hadn't even consciously been back-stepping, but it was a natural reaction to someone leaning in toward your face with a sinister expression.

"Sweet Dream…" He cocked his head to the side and looked her over. One hand went up to her already messy hair and ruffled it.

"Why did you call yourselves MEG?" she said quickly, as she flushed herself further against the wall.

"It's an acronym," he said, with a heavy yawn, betraying how tired he must have been. "Macbeth, Erik, Gajeel."

"Oh." Of course it was.

"Any other questions?" His voice dropped a bit lower. He was continuing to advance even though she couldn't back up any further.

"Actually…" she thought back to him singing. "There was one song…" _Your eyes are swallowing me…_ "Did you… Was that song about…" She flushed and wiggled uncomfortably, suddenly embarrassed to ask because, well what if he _didn't_ write it about her?

"Was it about you?" he offered the question instead.

She gave a wordless nod.

He shook his head and stared at her dead-on.

"No."

"Oh…" Disappointment dropped in her stomach. She had the instinct to run and hide under her covers now.

"Dream." He lifted her chin with his fingertips and cupped her face. "What do you think?" There was meaning swirling in his eyes, unspoken words on his lips.

 _Of course, the song is about you, idiot._

"Macbeth…" Her heart was—okay, her _lacrima_ was—pounding against her ribs. She reached forward, hands under his jacket, falling to his waist, tugging his hips a little closer. She breathed in his thick chamomile scent, that was carrying with it a musk from the sweat of performing. She tipped her head back slightly, parting her lips.

His response was to slip his own hands to the small of her back. He leaned his head forward and breathed in her scent, while also exhaling softly on the skin of her ear. His hands slid further down, which might have warranted a smack, since it was clearly his intention to grab her butt, but instead, he tugged something out of her back pocket and took a step back from her.

"What's this?" He held the cat collar up to the light.

"AH! That's nothing!" She tried to snatch it back but he held it out of reach.

"This is that collar with the bell that you wore that one day when you called me a kitty," he smirked. "Why on earthland do you have it in your pocket right now, Dream?"

"I-It was Mira, okay?!" She pouted in frustration.

He reached up and pushed her hair back so that he could snap the collar around her neck.

"Macbeth, don't! This is embarrassing!"

He smirked in obvious delight, then flicked the bell.

"I think you should wear this all the time," he said, in a low voice.

"It's silly…" she blushed deeply.

"Sh." He hushed her by pressing his finger to her lips. His eyes twinkled in malicious entertainment. "Good kitten."

Before she could complain about how degrading he was, or how his endless teasing made her feel like there was a moshpit happening in her chest and stomach, he was kissing her. He'd cupped her face with both hands and tipped her head back against the wall, granting himself more access. He was pressing himself flush against her, pinning her to the wall with his hips and hands. He was sliding his tongue along her bottom lip, requesting further access to her mouth, and she was instinctively granting it to him.

Stars danced in the darkness behind her closed eyelids. She felt like an obsessed groupie kissing her idol. It was any fangirl's dream come true. Then, to make it even worse (better?), he made a sound from the base of his throat that was all too like the roars he made onstage, and which made her claw at his shirt in response.

They paused for breath and were about to dive into kiss number two, when someone cleared his throat nearby.

Macbeth stepped back, much to Dreamer's chagrin. She might have literally whined when he broke contact with her.

A group of five little teenage boys were staring buggy eyed at him.

"M-Midnight," the lead boy whispered. He shakily held up a hat. "C-Can you sign this for me?"

Macbeth looked at the hat with complete distaste. It was no wonder he hadn't been out signing things with the other members. This was totally not his style. But he looked at the teen, a boy with his black hair pulled in a bun, wearing earrings, and with eyes as red as his (albeit much beadier).

Dreamer giggled to herself as Macbeth reached for the hat. She knew him well enough to know he could not turn down the request of a child.

He signed it and silently plopped it on the boy's head.

The other four of them instantly lifted their fists into the air and shouted, "WILD!"

"I want to be in a band one day, too!" One of them yelled as they scampered away.

"What should our band name be?"

"How about… Cinco Dog?"

"What kind of weird name is that?!"

"Well, what kind of name is MEG?!"

Their voices drifted down the hall. Dreamer giggled again at the lingering smile on Macbeth's face, which gave away his happiness at seeing the boys' excitement.

The innocent moment lasted only a second, however, because he was quickly looking back at her with hungry intent.

"Where were we, my sweet Dream?"

"A-Ah, we were…" she blushed. "You know…"

"Ah yes, I remember…" He closed the space between them again, pressing her into the wall once more. He leaned forward, lips brushing against hers… then he flipped the light switch on the wall and stepped away. "I was closing up backstage."

He left her breathing heavily against the wall, alone and all kinds of frustrated.

"Macbeth! You're EVIL!"

"You knew that already." His tone was unremorseful as he walked down the hall, hitting light switches as he went.

"Wait! Don't leave me back here!"

"If you get lost, don't take your collar off. I'll be able to find you using the bell."

"Very funny, Macbeth..."


	74. Happy Birthday, Syllest!

**A/N: Here's our last feel-good filler before the final chapter! I hope these scenes have given you enough of a break after the events in that final arc! And I hope you're ready for the upcoming finale!**

* * *

 **Chapter 74: Happy Birthday, Syllest!**

It was a crisp fall day. The end of the year was just around the bend. It was incredible to think that Dreamer had brought Macbeth to Fairy Tail in the spring. Had it been over six months since that fateful day? It felt as though it had only been a few weeks, while at the same time, the memories seemed to span over years. It's true, there's no beginning or end in the splintering wood of time.

It was also true that today, November 21st, was Syllestra's eighth birthday.

And since this is the Fairy Tail guild in question, and consists of a group of people who will use any excuse to over-celebrate, _naturally_ they were holding a birthday party of gargantuan proportions for the girl. Several members (under the guidance—and _threat_ —of Mirajane) had begun decorating before dawn. Now, the hall hung with pink streamers—the floor was a sea of confetti and balloons—every table had been set with flowery pink tablecloths and empty baskets for the placing of gifts (of which there should be many). The stage had a table on which sat a birthday cake at least the same size as the birthday girl, and decorated with countless pink, frosting roses.

Currently, Macbeth was standing atop a stepping stool, carefully placing sugary bees on the highest flowers. Erza was supervising, her hands on her hips, and her tongue flitting occasionally over her lips as she admired the cake.

"Macbeth, what did you say was in this cake again?" she asked.

"Strawberry, bubblegum, and honey," he answered as he carefully adjusted a bee wing, "with layers of vanilla buttercream and a grape jam core."

"So, it is indeed a strawberry cake, of sorts?" Erza's mouth watered.

"Titania." He stood upright and cast his gaze on her while crossing his arms over his chest. "Syllestra gets the first piece."

"Of course, she does!" Erza's jaw dropped and her cheeks took color. "What are you insinuating?! Do you really think I would sneak a bite of that delicious, strawberry confection before she's had the honor of that first, creamy bite?"

He deadpanned.

Erza cleared her throat, then turned briskly to survey the rest of the room. "Right, well it appears that preparations are almost complete."

Mirajane was hanging the last strand of lights. She clasped her hands together and squealed with delight. "I'm going to open the doors now!" She hopped off the table and skipped to the guild hall doors, which she'd barred with a stack of tables to prevent anyone from coming in (including the poor guild members who just wanted to go check the job board). She easily tossed the tables aside and threw the doors open.

"Come in!"

People poured in at once. Among them were Dreamer and the birthday girl herself.

Syllest was wearing a pink skirt with a purple shirt, and her short hair was pulled back with a sparkly headband, a birthday hat perched atop it. She skipped inside with her head held high and her eyes wide with wonder.

Behind her, with her hand on Syllest's shoulder, was Dreamer, wearing a matching pink skirt. She was taking in the setting with approving eyes.

"Happy birthday, Syllest!" Mira scooped the girl up into her arms and swung her in a wide circle.

"Auntie… Mira… can't… breathe."

Mira released her constrictor grip on the girl and sat her back down. "What do you want to do first, birthday girl? No cake or presents until all of your guests arrive! But there are snacks and games and—"

"Is Romeo here yet?" Syllestra stood on her tiptoes and tried to see over the tabletops.

"The party just barely started, Syllest," Dreamer laughed and patted her head. "Give him a few minutes to show up."

"Dear me, if I may…" A kind old voice called out to the girl. "I have just the place for you to recline as your guests arrive, sweet Syllestra."

He was standing on the stage, dressed in a finely pressed suit and top hat with a pink flower—standing beside a solid gold throne, sized for an eight-year-old.

"Ooooh!" Syllest skipped over to him and climbed into the throne. "Is this from great grandpa?! Look at me!" She waved a hand dramatically in the air. "Bow before me, my loyal suspects!"

"I believe you mean 'subjects,' dear me."

People began to filter in and deposit their wrapped gifts in the baskets on the tables. One by one, they walked up to Syllestra's throne and wished her a happy birthday.

Cana slid onto a barstool.

"What's on tap today, Kinana?"

"Sorry, Cana," Kinana smiled apologetically. "The bar isn't serving alcohol today."

"What the hell kind of party is this?!"

"Um… an eight-year-old's birthday party?" Kinana sweat-dropped. "I can make you a Shirley-temple?"

"Now you's know how I feel every day, babe!" A familiar gruff voice said as Piper walked in from outside with a tray of barbequed food.

"Alright, now we're talking!" Gajeel snatched the tray out of Piper's hands so fast that he tripped on his own boots and almost faceplanted.

"Watch what you're doin,' you's hunk of rusted metal!"

"What did you just say to me?" Gajeel turned in an instant. "No one talks to me like that and gets away with it." He clenched a fist and advanced on Piper.

"I talk to you like that all the time, Gajeel," came a drawling tone, as Macbeth intervened by placing a hand on Gajeel's shoulder.

"Great," Piper scowled at the dual-haired mage. "I was hopin' I'd gets ta eat somet'in before I saw you's today." He scrunched up his face. "Now I lost my appetite."

"HEY!" Gajeel lunged forward to strike, but was held back by Macbeth's arms around his waist. "Talkin' shit to me is one thing, but screw with Beth and I'll knock you on your ass, you got it?!"

"I'd be careful," said another voice. Erik was walking in with a package under his arm. "Dreamer's watching you guys like a hawk. She already decided that the first person to land a punch is gonna be exiled from the party."

All sets of eyes turned toward the other side of the room where, sure enough, Dreamer was glaring at them with all the fury of an adorable murderer.

Gajeel and Piper smiled sheepishly in her direction and then shook hands like well-behaved guildmates.

"Truce?" Piper asked through gritted teeth.

"For now."

Erik walked his package over to Syllest as she continued to sit like royalty on her throne.

"Happy birthday, kid." He sat the present next to her chair.

"Thanks, uncle Erik!" Syllestra beamed at him. He frowned and awkwardly tugged on a pointed ear.

"Look, we're not related," he pointed out.

" _Yes, huh,"_ she blinked. "You're like Macbeth's brother, and Macbeth is like my dad, so that makes you my uncle right? Except he's not like my real dad, I mean he's like a different kind of dad, because the real one was super mean but Macbeth is super nice—okay, I mean he's not like super, _super_ nice, but…"

"Okay, I get it," he cut her off. "You can call me whatever the hell you want, just stop talking."

She giggled. "Oooh, you said 'hell.'"

"I should've stayed with the Seis..."

"Hey, Syllest!" Mira walked over again after having made her rounds to multiple tables in the room. "When are the rest of your friends going to be here? We should start eating cake soon!"

"My friends?" The little girl blinked up at her surrogate aunt with wide, pink eyes. "Oh, well I don't know where Romeo is, but none of my friends from school are coming. I invited my whole class but they said they didn't want to come because Fairy Tail is _deductive_ and they called me a weirdo."

"Destructive," Erik corrected her.

"Oh!" Mira's eyes filled with tears. "Well, what matters is that your family is here to celebrate with you." She leaned down and squeezed Syllestra to the breaking point again.

"I… know, Auntie… I'm… not… upset…"

"Syllest!"

She shoved Mira off of her in an instant, before standing up on the throne and looking over everyone's heads.

"ROMEO!"

The young boy ran through the room and climbed the stage to hug her.

"Happy birthday, Syllest!"

"Yay!" She squeezed him tightly. "Now we can eat cake!"

"At long last!" Erza's voice bellowed from below as her gauntleted fists slammed on the table. "EVERYONE! Gather around to sing Happy Birthday to Syllestra so we may cut into the cake!"

The crowd joined Syllestra on stage. She stood on the table and put her hands on her hips as they lit the candles and sang to her.

"Make a wish!" Mira said.

"I wish… to be as tough as Erza!" She blew out the candles.

"Psst, you're not supposed to say your wish out loud, Syllest," Romeo whispered.

"Oh…"

"NOW, WE CUT THE CAKE!"

Erza requipped into baker clothes, but hoisted swords into the air rather than cooking knives. "STAND BACK!"

Within moments, the cake was cut into perfect slices, and Erza was passing a plate to Syllest.

The little girl took it and slowly lifted a fork.

"Well?" Erza was leaning so close to her that her breath was making her bangs sway. "Take a bite! Tell us how it tastes!"

Painfully slowly, Syllest lifted a forkful of cake to her lips.

"Come on, come on…" Erza's whole body was vibrating.

Syllest sniffed the fork, uncertainly. "Did you make this cake, Macbeth? What did you put in it? Sometimes you put really weird things in cakes, like that one time you made my mom that special cake that had mustard in it and you wanted me to taste it before you gave it to her because you wanted to make sure she would like it and your cheeks were kind of red like you were scared to give it to her, except I don't know why you were scared, my mom loves mustard and she loves cake and she loves you, so I don't even know why I had to taste it in the first place. I hope this doesn't have mustard in it because—"

Erza shoved the fork into Syllestra's mouth.

"Oomf, that's yurmmy!" Syllest said, with her mouth full.

"Finally!" The redhead scooped herself the largest slice of cake and began savoring every bite with an expression of pure bliss.

Soon, everyone was seated with a slice of the cake. Everyone was chatting happily, including Romeo and Syllest. That is, until the guild hall doors opened wide.

"Oh, did we interrupt something?"

The two figures that entered were none other than Sorano and Sawyer.

"Angel? Racer?" Erik stood up and blinked at them. "What are you doing here?"

Sorano's cheeks took some color and she glanced at the floor. Sawyer folded his arms and scowled.

"Well, you see… With the King of Diamonds gone—"

"And nowhere to go—"

"We began to think—"

"That we really missed the Seis, you know?"

"And while we may never be the Oracion Seis again," Sorano closed her eyes and breathed a slow breath, "we would like to remain with its former members."

Erik and Macbeth shared a startled look. It was Macbeth who first looked back and them, and whose face broke out in a soft smile.

"Syllestra," he looked at the girl. "Would you mind if my friends joined in the celebration?"

"Huh?" She narrowed her eyes at the two strangers. "Hm…" tapping her little fingers on the throne. "I don't know… That girl looks kind of bossy. And the boy looks like a penguin. And Mom says boys shouldn't wear full body spandex suits because it makes their—"

"Syllest!" Dreamer clasped her hand over the girl's mouth. "Of course, you're invited!" She smiled warmly. "You're Macbeth's family."

"And Family comes before all else, dear me," Jezran bowed.

"So just get in here and shut the damn door before you let all the cold air in!" Gajeel yelled.

The doors closed behind them, as Sorano and Sawyer joined the Fairy Tail members in celebrating Syllest's eighth birthday.

Sawyer took a seat next to Erik and they began to chat quietly. Sorano, on the other hand, was about to approach Macbeth when she caught sight of someone out of the corner of her eye. Someone who was carefully trying to slink behind the bar to hide.

"Well, well… If it isn't the degenerate sinner." She turned course and approached the bar.

Piper stopped in mid step and slowly turned to face her, while chuckling awkwardly.

"Ah, angel-face! What are you's doing here?" He glanced multiple times at Cana, who had leaned back to look Sorano up and down.

"I'm surprised." She came to stand before Piper with her hand on her hip. "I assumed you'd be happy to see me, after all that smooth-talk you were doing during our battle."

Cana's eyes narrowed at Piper.

"W-Wha? I don't know what you're talkin' about angel-cheeks—I mean, doll!" Another awkward laugh.

"Your name is Piper, right?" She took another step toward him.

"Uh… yeah—"

Sorano suddenly leaned forward and kissed his cheek, with mischievousness in her eyes. "Thank you for sparing my life, degenerate."

Piper's cheeks took some color as he stared, slack jawed, at the woman.

Until Cana smacked him on the side of the head.

"Does fidelity mean nothing to you?!" She fumed, hands on her hips. " _Angel-cheeks_? Are you _serious_?"

Sorano smirked and stepped back to watch the chaos unfold.

"Uh… I ain't sure what fidelity means, but I promise babe, I ain't seein' this chick!"

"Don't be shy," Sorano drawled.

"Wh—I ain't bein' shy! The hell is wrong with you Seis freaks?! You're all goddamn sadists!"

"PIPER." Cana was yanking him by the ear away from Sorano.

"I swears, babe! I swears!"

Meanwhile, everyone was finishing their pieces of cake, and Syllestra was begging for presents.

"Come on, Mom! I can't wait anymore!"

"Okay, okay." Dreamer sighed and called for everyone to gather around so she could start opening gifts.

No one shreds wrapping paper faster than an eight-year-old girl and her best friend. Clothes and toys and gift cards were soon strewn across the stage. She was in the process of ripping open a box from Reedus, when the guild doors slammed open once again.

"Watch out! Present coming through!"

The crowd split as the fire-dragon slayer and his blue exceed carried in a box that was at least ten feet tall and wide.

"WHOA!" Syllest stood up, eyes bugging out at the sight of the massive gift.

Dreamer, on the other hand, was already getting a headache. Especially when she saw the box jerk after Natsu slammed it on the ground.

"Mom, can I open that one next?!" Syllest jumped up and down in excitement.

"Well, I…" _Were those breathing holes at the top of the box?_

She didn't even get the chance to answer. Syllestra was already opening one side of the box while Romeo worked on the other. Once they'd torn off a side of wrapping paper, the box suddenly burst open. Standing there, looking absolutely furious at having been knocked unconscious and shoved in a box, was a towering forest Vulcan.

"NATSU!" Dreamer gaped at him. "You got Syllestra a MONSTER for her birthday?!"

"She said she wanted to be tough like Erza, right?" He grinned proudly. "So I got her a monster to beat up! Igneel did the same for me when I was a kid!"

"No, no, no!" Dreamer was marching for Syllest. "This is _not_ okay! She's not about to—" A hand grabbed her wrist. She stopped walking and looked over her shoulder into blood-red eyes. Macbeth shook his head.

"I can do it, Mom!" Syllest got into a fighting stance, in front of the fuming beast. "Come on, Romeo! Let's do it together!"

"Huh?" Romeo glanced at his dad for permission. Macao gave him a brief nod. "Okay! My dad took down a ton of these guys before! One will be a piece of cake!"

"Indeed!" Erza lifted a forkful of her third slice of cake.

"What is this?!" The Vulcan roared. "You brought me all the way here to snack on a couple of little kids?! Fine, if that's what you want!" It pounded its fists on its chest.

"Let's show them what we've been working on, Romeo!"

"Yeah, okay!"

They stood side by side, facing the monster that was easily three times their height.

"Unison Raid: Meteor Strike!"

"They have a unison raid?" Dreamer started to faint, but Macbeth caught her. "When have they been practicing magic together?"

The Vulcan tensed. Syllest held out her palms and squinted her eyes in hard concentration. She was focused so hard, that her little face scrunched up and she stuck her tongue out. Pink magic circles swirled in her palms, beginning to form a shape.

"Now!"

She threw her hands forward at the same time as Romeo. There was a flash of purple light, followed by a quiet thunk, as a tiny diamond rock, engulfed in a little purple flame, bounced off the Vulcan's head. The "meteor" rolled pathetically to the ground in front of the Vulcan.

There was a long moment of silence.

"HAHA!" The Vulcan doubled over laughing. "Was that an attack?! Meteor Strike? You've got to be kidding me! I've fought mice that were scarier than you shrimps!"

Syllest was looking down at the diamond with trembling fists.

"It's okay, Syllest…" Romeo touched her back. "We did our best."

"OH GOD THAT'S SO RICH!" The Vulcan was rolling on the floor now. "FUNNIEST THING THAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME ALL WEEK!"

Syllest shook violently. "Hey! Shut up, you… you… fat monkey!"

"FAT MONKEY HAHA!" He continued to laugh out loud.

Syllestra had had enough. She angrily marched forward and picked up the diamond rock. "I said SHUT UP!" She chucked it hard at the Vulcan.

The little burning mineral shot straight into the Vulcan's laughing mouth.

The monster clutched his throat and started to gag.

"Whoa! Syllest look! He's choking!" Romeo rushed to her side. "You did it!"

She blinked. Then grinned proudly. "Yeah! Yeah, take that fat monkey!" She kicked it in the shoulder while its face began to turn blue.

"Now get out of here!" Natsu stepped forward and booted the Vulcan through the roof and watched until it vanished from sight in the blue sky. "Nice goin,' kid!"

"Aye!" Happy picked Syllestra up by the arms and the crowd clapped and cheered for her.

Tears shimmered in Dreamer's eyes. "Eight years old… She's growing up so fast…"

After this mini-adventure, Syllestra finished opening her gifts. The chaos died down a bit, and the mood calmed. She sat her last new outfit down on the stage, then looked up at her Fairy Tail family.

"Thank you," she said, with a bright grin. "This has been my best birthday ever!"

They smiled back at her. Mira was about to excuse everyone, when Syllest stood up and hopped off the stage. She strode purposefully to where Macbeth was sitting.

"Hey, Macbeth!" She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him. "You didn't get me a present!"

He fidgeted under the weight of her accusing glare, and all the stares in the room. "I made your cake," he pointed out.

"It's okay," she nodded seriously. "There's only one thing I want from you, Macbeth!"

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

Syllest climbed onto his chair and plopped herself onto his lap. She brushed his hair to the side and cupped her hands around his ear to whisper something to him. He listened, with the same suspicious expression. His eyelashes fluttered in surprise after a moment, and the slightest color touched his cheeks.

She leaned back. Her cheeks were red too. "You can say no, if you want…" she looked shyly down at his scarf.

Dreamer watched this exchange with muted interest.

 _What did she say to him?_

Macbeth closed his eyes. He was either deep in thought, or fast asleep, it was always hard to tell with him. At last, he opened his eyes again and met Syllestra's gaze, evenly.

"I don't mind."

"Really?!" Her face lit up. "You really mean it?!"

He gave a small nod.

"Thank you!" She threw her little arms around his neck and buried her face in his scarf. "Thank you so much!"

After a moment of sobbing into Macbeth's hair and his awkwardly patting her back, she pounced off and ran to play with her new toys with Romeo.

The curious crowd began to disperse.

Dreamer made her way over to where Macbeth was still sitting. He hadn't budged since the strange display, and his eyes were closed, head bowed.

"Macbeth? Are you awake?" She sat down next to him.

"Yes."

"What did she say to you?" She cocked her head and watched him, resisting the urge to brush his hair to the side so she could see his eyes.

"She asked me for permission." He finally straightened up, though his eyes remained closed, and his face void of expression.

"Permission… for what?"

He opened his eyes just slightly, glancing out of the corner at her. His lip twitched in an almost-smirk.

"She asked for permission to call me 'dad.'"

Dreamer inhaled sharply, her cheeks taking instant color as well. "S-She what? I'm sorry, I tried to tell her that's not—"

"Dream." He cut her off. "I don't mind."

"But—"

"When you're raised without a father, you find the inexplicable need to give someone that title. You want someone to call 'father,' who will teach you, and who you can strive to make proud." There was unusual passion in his voice. "Let her give me that title. Better me than some heartless man who might use that role to hurt her."

It occurred to Dreamer that he was talking about more than just Resmond. He was talking about Zero, too. In other words, he was expressing his desire to be for her what Zero failed to be for him—a father who cared.

"Besides." He turned fully toward her and brought his face uncomfortably close. "I'm not opposed to playing house with you, sweet Dream…"

"Aaand, on that note!" She slid away from him. "I better start helping Mira clean up!"

He chuckled under his breath and watched her run away.

"Dad!" Syllestra called to him. "Can you help me and Romeo put this kite together? Please?!"

He let the word sink in for a moment before he stood up. Silently, he joined the two children on the stage. Dreamer glanced over her shoulder at them as she walked toward Mirajane.

"Happy Birthday, Syllest…" she said quietly, as a joyful smile touched her lips.

* * *

 **A/N: There, a cutesie, feel-good filler for you all. :)**

 **Are you ready? The next chapter will be the final in this stage of Dreamer and company's adventures. It's an extra long special. After that, I will be posting some extra-content fillers for fun, to keep you entertained before I start posting the sequel. You'll have a day in the life of Piper from his point of view, the story of how Dreamer and Mystogan met, a humorous scene of all the dragon-slayers attempting to babysit an eight year-old girl, among others. ;)**

 **I only ask that, after you read chapter 75, you review and tell me what you thought of this story. Tell me what sort of things you want to see more of in the sequel, things you loved, even things that you think could use some improvement. Your feedback will be invaluable to me, my dear friends and readers. ^^**


	75. Countdown

**A/N: This is it, the final chapter! It's long, so feel free to read it in more than one sitting. It's broken up into easy enough sections for you. Onward march, my beautiful readers.**

* * *

 **Chapter 75: Countdown**

 **One Week**

 _Almost every member of Fairy Tail has gathered in the guild hall, awaiting a major announcement…_

"What's all the commotion about?" Pantherlily asked, black paws placed on his hips.

"Beats me," Gajeel said, standing in the exact same position. "You got any idea, Beth?"

Macbeth's arms were crossed over his chest under his coat, eyes turned toward the stage like everyone else. "How should I know?" he 'tch'ed. "I haven't been with Fairy Tail for long either. Erik?"

The poison dragon slayer's eyebrows were twitching in annoyance. "I don't know," he snapped. "I can't hear with all this damn noise. It's making my ears hurt."

"I think the Master is going to tell us about something big happening," Wendy said nearby, with Carla held against her chest.

"Can't say I'm excited," the exceed drawled in annoyance.

"What's he gonna say?" Alzack tapped his fingers together. "The suspense is killing me!"

"We worked our little tails off, right?" Bisca assured him. "Don't worry."

In another part of the crowd, Natsu was looking left and right like an overexcited puppy.

"Just calm down Natsu," Happy chided. "You got this!"

"The tension here is huge," Elfman remarked. "Very manly."

Gray scoffed next to him.

Dreamer stood with Piper and Jezran, a few feet in front of Macbeth and company.

"Doll, I'm gonna get it this year," Piper said, bouncing in his boots.

"If anyone's going to get the title, it's Pops," Dreamer argued.

"Impossible, dear me," Jezran chuckled. "I have specifically requested every year that Master leave me out of this competition."

"Don't bother me none," Piper smirked. "Just increases my odds of winning."

The green curtain began to rise on the stage. Cheers filled the room. It rose to reveal Master Makarov, Erza, Mirajane, and Gildarts. The way Makarov stood, cloaked in white, arms folded over his little chest and expression serious, all communicated big business.

The master cleared his throat and addressed the crowd. "In accordance with the Fairy Tail guild's time honored tradition, I will now announce this year's entrance for the S-Class wizard promotion trial!"

The crowd erupted in cheers so loud that Erik finally walked out.

"Heh, wimp," Gajeel smirked as the other slayer fled.

"Shut up and pay attention," Macbeth said.

"Please be quiet everyone!" Erza said over the din.

"Shut up and let the master finish talkin,'" Gildart's added.

The room fell silent, anticipation stifling the noise.

Dreamer clutched her hands together. Macbeth stepped forward to stand between her and Piper.

"The trial, this year, will take place on Tenrou Island," Makarov announced, "our guild's sacred ground."

"What is this nonsense, Dream?" Macbeth asked over her shoulder.

"Every year, Master chooses wizards to participate in this trial," she explained. "And whoever wins gets promoted to S-Class."

"Hm." He narrowed his eyes. The Oracion Seis had never had need for rituals like this, given they only had six members.

"The strength that you possess inside," Makarov lifted a fist, as his voice took on a passionate tone, "your character, and your hearts. These are what I considered when making my selections. And I have chosen eight participants!"

"Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser, Elfman, Cana Alberona, Freed Justine, Levy McGarden, and Mest Gryder!"

Piper collapsed dramatically on the floor. "I don't get it! My odds was good… He picked Fairy Freed over me?"

"It seems you have to have some level of skill to participate in this trial," Macbeth taunted, prodding at his roommate with his boot.

Nearby, Romeo was grinning ear-to-ear at the announcement.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be an S-Class wizard too! You just watch me!"

"Yeah! And me too!" Syllest fist-pumped at his side.

"Although eight wizards have been selected, only one will emerge victorious!" Makarov continued. "The trial will begin in one week's time, so you'd better step up your preparations!"

Gajeel was fuming. "How come he picked Juvia, but I get passed over?! I thought the old man liked me more than her!"

"You seem to have a shady reputation in the guild for some reason," Pantherlily commented. This was met with a smirk over his shoulder from Macbeth.

"Shut your mouth, Beth! It ain't like he picked you neither!"

"I wasn't interested to begin with," came the mocking response.

Carla's paws were on her hips, an amused smile below her kitty nose.

"And, as usual," she said to herself, "everybody loses control—"

Her eyes suddenly went wide, pupils contracting. Images flashed through her mind. Falling trees, Natsu weeping, limp hands laying on the earth. An image of a man surrounded in a veil of dark power. There were other images too, ones that made less sense. Something that resembled a flying ship, a man with an eyepatch, the earth being shadowed by something that eclipsed the sun, and a man with long black hair and yellow eyes, holding a black diamond rose in his palm.

Of all the strange, disturbing images, that was the only one that registered in her brain. She knew from being at Wendy's side in the infirmary with Dreamer for so long, that the man she had seen must have been Resmond.

The master continued to explain the rules, detailing how the eight contestants needed to choose partners, and how they would be facing Gildarts, Erza, and Mirajane on the island.

"The eight participants I named earlier, and their partners, are asked to meet at the port of Hargeon one week from today. So, get to work."

* * *

 _Later, that same day:_

Team Derelict Heart, along with Erik and Kinana, Gajeel and Pantherlily, and Mirajane were all gathered together by a guild window, watching the snow fall and drinking cocoa together. Syllest and Romeo played nearby, acting out how they imagined the battles were going to go and arguing about whether Natsu or Elfman would win the title.

"So," Macbeth opened one eye to cut a glance at Gajeel. "You asked Levy to be her partner?"

Gajeel's cheeks took color, and he pointedly turned away from the other man. "Yeah, so what? It's only so I get a chance to beat the crap outta some of those other losers."

"Mhm." Macbeth smirked. Erik laughed out loud.

"Stop being mean," Kinana poked Erik in the cheek.

"What about you, Piper?" Dreamer sipped on cocoa and looked to her right, where Piper was sitting with his arms and face on the table, absentmindedly dropping handfuls of marshmallows into his cocoa and glaring at it like he wished it were something else.

"What about me, doll?" A marshmallow rolled off the mountain and bounced off his knuckle.

"Are you going to partner up with Cana?"

He blushed just as deeply as Gajeel had. "I… I'm gonna ask a'right? Just gotsta get up the courage."

"Aaaw, Piper!" Mira squeezed his shoulders with a giggle. "You're shy!"

"I ain't shy, MJ!" He sat up with a pout. "I just don't want her to think I'm being overeager, you's know?"

"How could she _ever_ get that impression from _you_ , Piper?" Macbeth said.

"Shut the hell up, Mac! You're getting' real ballsy with your shit lately!"

"Oh, Piper." Mira smiled warmly at him. "I'm really happy that you and Cana are finally admitting your feelings for each other. Everyone could see it, you know. Even while you were obsessed with Dreamer. I think you two would make such a cute couple."

Piper groaned and shoved his hot chocolate to Dreamer before burying his face in his sleeves.

"Dear me, it really is coming down out there, is it not?" Jezran was facing the window, hot chocolate dripping from his white streaked mustache.

They all paused bickering for a moment to watch with him. The snow, coming down in wild flurries from a black sky, painting the world in white. It was a sight to see. It made a strange sense fall on Dreamer. It had been spring when Master sent her to Nirvana. The Worth Woodsea had been blooming with flowers and green, when she dug in the rubble to find the source of the growling she'd heard. When she discovered a certain dark wizard, fast asleep under stones.

The same dark wizard who was staring at her now, months later, his red eyes drowning her—speaking of things unseen, of deep feelings, freedom and desire. She met his gaze and smiled. To her astonishment, he smiled back.

The sound of little paws pattering on the wood floor stole her attention.

"Carla," Pantherlily said, as he saw the white exceed approach, purpose in her stride. "Are you not with Wendy?"

"At the moment, no." She came to stand before them, her tail swishing in annoyance.

Dreamer frowned. Not annoyance… _Fear. Confusion. Desperation._

"May I have a word with you, Dreamer?"

"Me?" Dreamer gestured at her chest and blinked.

"You _are_ the only 'Dreamer' here, aren't you?"

"Ah… Okay." She stood up, taking her cocoa with her as she stepped around the table. "What is it, Carla?"

"We should talk in private." She started to walk, but paused, an ear twitching. She glanced at Erik from the corner of her vision, catching amethyst eyes looking at her. "Actually, let's take a walk."

The two of them left the group. Dreamer grabbed her coat off a stand by the guild hall doors and followed the exceed outside, into the December air.

"You don't want Erik to hear." It was more of a statement than a question. Dreamer asked it as she struggled to keep up with Carla's quick footsteps.

"He's a nuisance, that one," she scoffed. "But it seems he can only hear words that someone is thinking, not images or feelings. Still, he's a pest."

Further down the street. Another block. The air was icy and sharp.

Suddenly, Carla stopped walking by the river. She turned, though she didn't face Dreamer directly.

"Are you aware that I have some amount of prophetic sight?"

Dreamer stood next to her and gazed at the water flowing. "Yes, Pantherlily has mentioned it. You discovered it in Edolas, right?"

"Indeed."

Another pause. The cat's whiskers twitched, along with her tail. She seemed to be contemplating her words.

"I believe something unfortunate will take place on Tenrou Island during this trial."

Dreamer listened, feeling the dread that Carla was experiencing.

"It's difficult to say… My abilities are far from refined. Nor do they have perfect accuracy. This could all be a slim possibility, but still…"

She sighed, finally turning to look up at Dreamer.

"Syllestra's father. I see him in these visions of Tenrou Island."

Dreamer took a step back. A chill that ran deeper than the wind sliced to her bones.

"That's impossible."

Macbeth told her that he fell. Resmond's body plummeted below, into the dark shaft of the tower. The same tower that crumbled and crushed the Nikolana Device, and him as well.

"Perhaps…" Carla sighed. "Honestly, there's a very good chance that it's false. It might have been better not to tell you at all… Still. Of the images I've seen, his is the only one I recognize. I see him in the bowels of a ship, waiting… for you."

Dreamer released a small cry. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. There was a distant sound of glass shattering on the snow-speckled street—the rise of steam from hot chocolate mixing with snow.

"I am telling you this so that you stay away from the island." Her voice became haughty again. "I will likewise be advising Wendy to avoid the island at all costs. I hoped to tell you so that you don't partner up with any of the participants."

The wind blew snow against them.

"At any rate. That is what I wanted to tell you. I must go fetch Wendy now."

Dreamer nodded, but she couldn't speak.

Carla walked away, her tail swishing sadly in the snow behind her.

Dreamer sat on the snow, not caring about the cold anymore. Tears streaked her face as she stared up at the black sky.

 _It can't be. Resmond is dead. He's gone. He was crushed under rubble._

But in her heart, she knew better. She knew from experience that a man could live, trapped under debris, until someone came along to pull him out.

She wondered if it could be true. Could Resmond be on Tenrou Island? Would he be waiting for her? And why…?

Why couldn't she be free of him?

* * *

 **6 Days**

Dreamer's saw her own visions when she slept. Memories—nightmares. Resmond killing Rosy, Syllest's body hanging far above Dreamer's reach, a suit of black-diamond armor, a spike shooting through her chest…

She woke with her hand above the place her heart used to be.

 _Was it not enough that he took Rosy, that he took my heart, that he tried to take Syllest… Will it ever be enough?_

That morning, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. If her face were a bit rounder, her hair a bit longer, she could be Rosy.

The magic circles spun in her eyes and she gazed into them, reflected at her.

 _Peace. Joy. Peace._

She knew it wouldn't work. She couldn't charm herself. She wouldn't be able to anyway, if she knew she were trying to do it. But even reciting those words helped. It didn't help the pain go away, but it helped her paint on a smile. It helped her eyes twinkle. It helped craft the mask she would wear the rest of the day. She needed to look happy, because she couldn't tell anyone what Carla had told her. She couldn't.

 _Macbeth…_

He'd seen her die by Resmond's hand. He needed Resmond to be dead just as much as she did. He deserved to be free of that demon. She couldn't let him know that he might still be alive. She had to stay strong.

So, she grinned as they drank tea with Jezran, just like any other morning. She rolled her eyes at Piper and Macbeth's antics. Her eyelashes fluttered when Macbeth looked at her. She maintained the façade perfectly. She had always been skilled at pretending to be happy.

"Where's Erik this morning?" she asked Macbeth while he adorned his apron so that he could go behind the counter and help Kinana.

"He left this morning for a job," came the nonchalant reply.

"By himself?" She was surprised. She knew he was a member of Fairy Tail now, but she was under the impression that he was still under at least some supervision.

Macbeth's fingers paused as he tied the apron string around his neck. "It's not a regular job." His lip twitched with a smile, a genuine smile, as he thought of his friend. "He's going to make repairs for some damage he caused when he was in the Oracion Seis."

"Oh!"

So, Erik and Macbeth both were still trying to make right the sins they had committed in their past life. The realization made her feel a spark of warmth—but it was quickly snuffed out by the ever-present memory of Carla's words.

"Dream," his voice pulled her out of thought. He turned his back to her and swept his hair over his shoulder. "Tie this for me."

"Why? I've seen you do it yourself a hundred times."

"I want you to do it." There was the teasing edge to his tone.

She blushed slightly, ignored the exasperated groan that came from Piper, and stood to tie the strings of his apron. Fingers brushing the skin of his neck, catching on stray curls.

"Don't forget my waist," he commanded, voice low.

"GET A ROOM WOULD YOU'S?!"

"Hm, we _could_ go to my room, Dream," Macbeth smirked as she tied the strings on his back.

"Not that room, bastard!" The veins on Piper's forehead pulsed with rage.

"Dear me," Jezran rested a hand on Piper's shoulder, "if it is not Miss Alberona coming in early." His brown-eyed gaze followed Cana as she came in the guild doors and slumped at a table. "Do you not have something to ask her, lad?"

Piper was successfully distracted. He stood up, briskly, causing his chair to scape on the wood floor. He licked his palm and slicked down a stray strand of sky-blue hair.

"Attractive," Macbeth remarked. Dreamer elbowed him in the side.

The dice-mage straightened his jean vest, puffed his chest out, checked his piercings to make sure they were all in place (a nervous habit), and strode with purpose to Cana's table.

"Gajee~" Macbeth cupped his mouth with one hand and called to the iron-dragon slayer, who was currently shoving bacon and eggs into overstuffed cheeks.

"Wha?"

"1,000 jule says she turns him down," Macbeth jutted his thumb at Piper and Cana.

Gajeel thought for a moment. "Alright, you're on!"

Piper slid onto the bench next to Cana. She lifted her head and looked lazily at him.

"What's up, Pipe?" she yawned.

"How you's doin,' babe?" He propped one leg up on the bench.

"I'm fantastic," she said, words dripping with sarcasm.

"So, this is it." He chewed his lip and glanced across the room, where Gildarts was chugging orange juice with his breakfast. "The S-Class trial."

"Yep."

"And he's gonna be there on the island with you's."

"How about you tell me something I _don't_ know, Piper?" _If looks could kill…_

"You're gonna do it this year, doll…" His voice took on a softer edge than usual. He reached up and rubbed her back with his palm, encouragingly. "I believe in you's."

Her face softened and she let out a quiet sigh. "Thanks, Pipe. That… means a lot."

"No biggie, babe." He gave a cheeky grin and stroked his goatee. "So, what should I bring?"

"Huh?" She blinked, uncomprehending.

"To the island?" His grin got even cockier. "I'm going wit' you's, right?"

"Why would you go with me?" She frowned.

"Wha—" he blinked. "Cuz I'm gonna be your partner, doll! Ain't that obvious?!"

"Oh." Cana yawned again and straightened up, stretching her arms over her head. "Yeah, sorry, but I already said yes to Lucy."

Piper's jaw dropped. "You… You's what?!"

"Yeah, she asked me last night." There was no remorse in those purple eyes. "She picked my ass up off the street."

"B-Babe!" Piper stood up, looking desperate. "But I t'ought we's… I mean…"

"What?" Cana shrugged.

"We're buddies, doll!"

"So?" She sighed heavily. "Me and Lucy are friends too. We sort of crossed that boundary when we took a bath together."

Piper blinked. For a moment, his eyes clouded, his cheeks flashed pink, and there might have been a slight drip of blood from his nose… He shook his head violently.

"But, Cana! I wants to be there for you when you make the cut! I wants ta support you's when you… You know!" He jutted a thumb discreetly in Gildart's direction.

"Look, I don't know what to tell you, Piper." She stood up. "You should have said something yesterday."

Piper's face twisted in a look of dejection.

Ten feet away, Gajeel was slapping jule into Macbeth's hand.

"B-Babe—"

"Piper." Makarov's voice interrupted this exchange. The old master walked over and looked up at the gambling wizard. "Would you do me a favor?"

"Huh? Yeah, Gramps, what's up?"

"Roll your dice."

"What for?" He pulled his red dice out of his pocket. "I gotsta know what I'm rolling for."

"Just general luck," the master said, cryptically.

"A'right…" Piper frowned, then held the dice up toward Cana. "Can I get some luck?"

"Sure, whatever." Cana folded her arms over her stomach and blew a breath of air into Piper's hands.

He shook the dice and rolled them on the table.

Snake-eyes.

"Shit, gramps. I don't know whose luck I was rollin' for, but it ain't lookin' good for 'em."

"Hm." Makarov pinched his eyebrows. "Piper, I'd like you to come with us to Tenrou Island."

Emerald eyes widened in shock.

"I'm curious to test the accuracy of your magic. I'd like you to roll for each match-up in the trial." Makarov explained. "That is _if_ you can stay focused, and promise not to intervene in _anyone's_ battles." He glanced twice at Cana.

"You gots it, Gramps!" Piper grinned widely and slid his dice back into his pocket. He smirked meaningfully at Cana. "Looks like I'm gonna be there to watch you's succeed anyway."

"Great. More pressure." Cana scoffed and strode off.

"Wha—What did I say, babe?!" He groaned in frustration. "Goddamn women… Can't say anything right to 'em…"

"Remember, we're meeting at the port of Hargeon in six days," Makarov reminded him. "I expect you to be there with everyone else."

"You can count on me, gramps!" Piper gave a mock salute. The hair he'd slicked down with his own saliva popped comically into the air.

"Give me back my jule," Gajeel held his hand out to Macbeth.

"Not a chance."

"He's taggin' along, so that means I win!"

"The bet was whether she would reject him, and she did, so this money belongs to me." Macbeth turned on his heel and walked behind the counter.

"You're a scumbag, Beth!" But Gajeel chuckled deeply.

Dreamer watched, but she wasn't smiling. There was a throb in her chest from the lacrima heart.

 _Piper's going to Tenrou Island? But if Resmond is there…_

 _What am I going to do?_

* * *

 **5 Days**

Dreamer sat in the corner of the guild basement, alone, with the audio lacrima device held up to her ear.

"You're sure?" she said, in a breathless murmur.

"Yes," came the voice of Jezran's younger brother and heir to the Excalibur Family name. "You know how the Family is, Dreamer. We always go back to clean up our messes."

She chose not to think about the implied meaning here.

"Just so we're clear…" her mouth was dry, skin clammy. "You went back to the ruins personally, and—"

"There was no body, nor traces of a splattered body. I am not as excellent a tracker as my brother, but it did appear to me as though rubble had been rearranged, perhaps moved to retrieve the body."

"I see."

She had to know. She called the Excalibur Family before the guild hall opened, so she could hear it for herself. She had hoped to hear that Resmond's body had been collected by the Family and disposed of—she had hoped to disprove Carla's visions about Tenrou Island, but… It seemed she had only verified the possibility of them being true.

"Terry?" She petitioned the man on the other end of the line. "Please, don't tell Jezran or Arturus about this talk. I just… I needed to know."

There was a moment of silence before, "I understand. I will keep your inquiry secret. We all have skeletons in our closets, after all."

"Thank you, Uncle."

She bid him farewell, then held the lacrima device against her chest as she caught her breath.

 _Skeletons in our closets? If only Resmond were just a skeleton…_

She wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks, then stood up and put on her bravest smile, yet again.

 _Time to face the day._

She was strong. She was composed. When someone caught her smile falter, she charmed them with her magic. _Trust. Trust. Trust._ She laughed when it was right to laugh. She nodded when people spoke to her. She leaned into Macbeth's touches when he teasingly cupped her face or put his arms around her.

All the while, she thought of Resmond.

She tucked Syllestra into bed. Stroked her black hair. It was short now, but still as dark as the starless night—still reminiscent of him. She held her child close, petitioned the gods or whoever would listen as to why… Why this child could never be free.

She sat on the couch with Mira and they drank tea. She listened to the other woman ramble on about who she expected to face in the trials, and how she hoped she wouldn't face her brother.

Then, she laid awake on her bed, staring at the fan on the ceiling.

She did not sleep.

* * *

 **4 Days**

Team Derelict Heart was having their morning tea. It was too cold to sit outside, and the café was closed in the winter anyway, so they were gathered by their window in the guild hall, sipping tea in relative silence.

Dreamer was lost in thought, staring out the window at the white ground. There were dark circles around her eyes from an obvious lack of sleep, though she had done her best to cover them with makeup. There was no rest for her mind, as it mulled constantly over what she should do. Stay? And live forever wondering where Resmond was and what he was planning? Go? Make sure he stayed down this time?

"I wish you would stop smiling," Macbeth said testily next to her, his words directed at Piper, who was staring up at the ceiling with a grin.

"Heh, no way." Piper leaned is chair on its back legs. "I'm goin' on a vacation away from you's." His smile widened. "And Cana's gonna win the S-Class trial and then…" There was a devious glint in his eyes.

"You think she'll have a celebration night with you, Piper?" Macbeth taunted. "You really do live in a fantasy dream-world, don't you?"

"It's none of your goddamn business, Mac!" Even now, his smile didn't falter at his roommate's antagonizing.

"Enjoy yourself," Macbeth said, darkly. "Dream and I will occupy the bedroom while you're gone."

Dreamer blinked, realizing she'd just been dragged into the conversation. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're nothin' but talk, Mac." Piper closed his eyes and kept rocking on his chair with a peaceful smile.

Macbeth's bottom lip jutted in a pout, clearly disappointed that he couldn't get under Piper's skin.

"Dear me," Jezran sipped his tea, then sat the cup on the saucer. "Piper, should you not be making preparations? And you, Macbeth, are you not due in the café for Miss Scarlet's daily dozen?"

Macbeth glanced at a clock on the wall, and was suddenly scrambling to his feet.

Jezran chuckled as the man raced to the kitchen without so much as a goodbye. Piper stood up as well, thrusting his hands in his pockets. "Guess I oughta do laundry before this trip. Later!"

Dreamer and Jezran were left at the table, tea and cookies between them.

"Dear Dreamer, would you like me to whip up some mustard sandwiches for you?" The old man folded his hands on the table and gave a close-eyed smile to her.

"No, thank you, Pops." She managed a smile in his direction, hoping it was convincing. Her gaze returned to the snowy ground.

"Dreamer." He took her empty cup and poured boiling water in it, over a new teabag. "Do you remember when we first met, dear me?"

She nodded, absentmindedly. "Of course, I do."

"It was a bit chilly that night, wasn't it, dear me." He chuckled again, but this time it was quieter. Thoughtful.

"I guess it was."

"It occurred to me as strange that, with a magic such as your own, you were living on the streets." He dropped a sugar cube in her tea and began to stir it with a silver spoon.

She finally looked at him. There was something strange in his tone of voice—and it was unlike him to bring up the past. She instinctively reached for his emotions. _Concern._

"Surely, you could have charmed someone into providing for you. Why then, dear me, were you living in such a depraved manner?" His stirring slowed. He took the spoon out of the cup and laid it slowly on a napkin. "To be honest, this question has haunted me for years."

He lifted the cup and held it out to her. She took it carefully, eyes narrowed at the old man.

"I don't like to use my magic on people without good cause," she said, wondering where all this was coming from.

"Yes, I am aware." He leaned back, folding his hands on the table once more. "However, there was more than good cause for you to have used your magic at that stage in your life, dear me. You were caring for yourself and young Syllestra. I can think of no better reason to use one's magic."

"Pops, I don't—"

"The reason you did not use your magic is that you have always preferred to do things on your own. You believe you were acting in humility, so as not to burden others, but in truth, it has always been pride that guides you."

Cold pinpricks went down her spine.

"Look at me, dear me." His voice was a hard command—the voice of a mob prince, not a gentle grandfather. She couldn't help but obey, immediately getting caught in brown eyes.

"Be sure, dearest Dreamer, that whatever it is you are planning is not guided by your pride."

"I'm not—"

His eyes narrowed. She swallowed the end of her sentence.

"Dreamer, Family is all around you. Keeping your feelings from them does not decrease the burden you fear you will place on their hearts. It is not an act of humility. If it is pride telling you to take captive a plot that will bring you harm, then you are making a grievous mistake, dear me."

She had been a fool to think she could fool Jezran, of all people. There wasn't anything the man ever missed. His attention to detail was astounding, as always.

"I…" Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Dreamer…" He reached out and took her hands in his own, weathered palms. "You need not tell me what ails you. It is not my intention to pressure you, dear me. I mean only to tell you that you are not alone. If you are troubled, your burdens too heavy to carry, then share the weight with us. Your Family. There is nothing myself, nor Piper, nor Macbeth would not do for you, dearest Dreamer. Do not let pride lead you to suffering. When you are ready, tell one of us, and we will relieve you of your pain, dear me."

She couldn't hold his gaze any longer, so she looked away with a sniffle. Jezran released her hands, and leaned back in his seat.

"I am sure, dear me, there are many ways the lad Macbeth could help relieve some of your stress." His brown eyes twinkled mischievously.

"POPS!" Her face went bright red. "I can't believe you!"

He chuckled deeply. "I was young once, too, believe it or not." The sparkle in his eyes. "I spent many years in quite a deep admiration for a woman, you know. The happiest years of my life before I encountered you and Syllestra, of course." His eyes closed at the fond memories, mustache twitching in amusement.

She didn't say anything in response. Her head hung low, bangs shielding eyes that were deep in thought.

"I ask you to please consider, dear me, pouring your worries out to one of us, at least. You are not alone, Dreamer. Do not let your pride convince you otherwise."

With these final words, he stood. He placed a hand on her head and ruffled her hair, with all the affection of a father or grandfather. She smiled weakly up at him, then watched as he walked away, teacup in tow. Her sight trailed down to her own cup. Her tea was already cold, and some loose leaves hovered at the bottom of the cup.

* * *

Dreamer didn't have a real grasp on time. Hours felt like seconds, seconds like years. All around her was the confusing splinter—past overlapping with present and future. Unidentifiable time. Indecision had her frozen there. Jezran's words played repeatedly in her head. Was he right? Was she just being proud by keeping this secret to herself? The secret of Resmond's return… What were her real motives?

She was so tempted to talk to someone about it, like he suggested. Especially in the afternoon, when Macbeth snatched her by the wrist and pleaded with her to take a nap at his side. The entire time she lay beside him, listening to his breathing slow, feeling his warmth… She thought she would tell him.

 _Macbeth… Resmond is alive. He's on Tenrou Island. I want to go. I want to stay._

Once or twice, her lips parted with the words positioned on the tip of her tongue. Once or twice, she almost fumbled out her fears, her plans, her uncertainty. But each time, her tongue would stick to the roof of her mouth, and her jaw would freeze. Finally, she stopped trying. She closed her mouth and swallowed the confession, while Macbeth fell asleep.

While he slept, she thought.

Tenrou Island… Even if she wanted to go, there was no way Makarov would allow it. Especially if she told him what Carla had told her. If the Master knew that Resmond might be on the island, he wouldn't let Dreamer anywhere near it. Besides, there was the possibility that Carla's vision wasn't real, or accurate. If Carla was keeping it to herself, then she must not have believed it carried much merit herself. Maybe Resmond wouldn't be there at all. But if he was… If he was waiting for her…

 _I can't just ignore it._

What did that mean? Did it mean she would need to find a way to go to Tenrou Island with the others, without raising their suspicions? And if so, how? She could charm them, but her magic could only go so far.

 _You could tell Piper about what Carla saw. He could keep a lookout for Resmond while he's there._

She dismissed the thought as soon as it passed. She couldn't put Piper in that position. Besides the fight with Resmond was hers. Everyone else had suffered by stepping into her own, personal battle. Piper had been wounded, Jezran had almost died, and Macbeth had been traumatized. She couldn't force them to go through anything like that again.

 _Be sure, dearest Dreamer, that whatever you are planning is not guided by pride._

She felt a stab of guilt in her stomach, but she ignored it. It couldn't be considered prideful to want to protect the people she loved… could it?

The conflict raged in her mind, ripping and tearing her sanity the entire time she laid with Macbeth's arm around her.

 _What do I do?_

Macbeth rose from slumber just before dinner. Dreamer felt him nuzzle against her hair—felt his lips brush the skin of her neck. It seemed as though he might litter her in kisses like he had the nights he slept with her in the infirmary. His fingers played with the folds in her shirt, slowly drifting underneath the fabric. She breathed in a sharp, quiet breath when his nails dragged softly on the bare skin of her stomach, fingers splaying wide. He drew invisible patterns below her naval, centimeter by centimeter trailing further up her torso, toward her chest. He breathed hotly against her neck and ear, lips then trailing to her shoulder.

But as his lips parted, teeth bared to tease the skin there… the door slammed open.

"I SAID NOT IN THIS ROOM, YA SICKOS!"

"W-We were just taking a nap!" Dreamer said defensively, as she sat bolt upright.

"Listen, Dreamy, I had a fiancé once, you's remember? I knows all about 'just takin' naps.' Now, get the hell out!"

"Ignore him, Dream. He's jealous." Macbeth stood and ushered her to the door.

"I ain't jealous, I'm disgusted! Can't wait to get away from you's lovebirds…" He grumbled incoherently as he slammed the door behind them.

She looked sheepishly up at Macbeth when they were alone again.

"What now, sweet Dream?" he lulled, the slightest smirk on his lips. "We could go to the garden?"

She swallowed nervously, as her stomach exploded with butterflies. Kissing Macbeth in the garden as the sun set…? Her head swirled with ideas that made her cheeks turn bright red.

"Mm, I can tell you're interested…" He brought his face closer to hers, ghosted his fingertips up her arm.

Of course, she was. She'd have to be insane not to be. Macbeth wasn't always this touchy-feely, but…

She thought of Carla's vision, and any excitement she'd been feeling was doused with cold water.

"Actually…" she took a half-step back. "I'm really hungry. I think I'll go get something to eat."

Macbeth narrowed his eyes. His dark lips took on a pout. "Did I do something to upset you, Dream?" He cocked his head slightly, as he considered her pink eyes. He seemed to be wracking his brains to remember if he'd teased her too much or pushed her too far or been generally cold to her in the past few days, but he came up dry.

"No, of course not!" She quickly countered. "I'm just hungry, honest!"

She winked. _Trust._

"Hm." He turned his back on her, and opened the bedroom door again. "I need to shower anyway."

His pouty response to rejection was endearing, and it would have made her giggle, if she could.

"Goodnight, Macbeth."

"…" He shut the door behind him.

Exhaustion settled on Dreamer immediately. Keeping up an act was hardest in front of Macbeth most of all. He made her so vulnerable…

She sighed heavily, then dragged her feet down the hall to leave the boys' building. Her head buzzed with the same conflicting thoughts, feelings, and indecision.

 _What do I do? What do I do?_

She turned the corner and started for the exit. Someone else was about ten feet ahead of her, walking with purpose through the doors.

 _Oh, it's just Mest._

Mest.

She stopped in her tracks. She had heard that Wendy would be accompanying him to Tenrou Island, and she could remember that he was in the trial last year, but other than that, she couldn't remember much else about him.

She thought back to lunchtime, when she'd been eating with a few of the girls, to include Wendy and Carla. Wendy had been talking about the mysterious member. There was something she'd said that had gotten Dreamer's attention, but what was it? Dreamer had been so distracted by the fog in her own mind, that she'd already forgotten…

Her feet trudged out the door, after the man. He was walking hastily in the snow, hands buried in his pockets, headed toward the river.

She suddenly remembered. Wendy had mentioned that Mest knew Mystogan well—that, in fact, he had been his apprentice.

How could she have missed it?

She followed behind the man for a few blocks, keeping her distance as they trudged through snowy streets and along the river. He walked under a bridge, into the shadows, then slowed to a halt. Dreamer paused, as well, maybe ten feet behind.

"Can I help you with something?" He looked back over his shoulder. "You've been following me for a while now. Is there something you want to say?"

She stood still, staring at him as the icy wind whipped her hair.

"I'm sorry," she smiled. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

"No harm done," came the measured response and return smile. "Come here, out of the wind, and we can talk."

She had a moment of pause, knowing he was luring her into the dark. She swallowed the lump in her throat and strode forward with confidence, joining him under the bridge.

It was darker out of the glow of streetlights, but she could still make him out well. A slender man with narrow features, a shaved head, thin eyebrows, and a pronounced scar along the left side of his face. Most importantly, she could see the muted green of his eyes.

Her memory told her that she recognized this face, that she was familiar with the sight of him. But…

"Hello," he greeted her kindly. "And you are?"

She continued to smile, eyes locked on his. "I'm in Fairy Tail, too. You probably don't know me. We've never talked before."

"Ah, I see." He nodded. "I also tend to be gone on jobs more often than not, so I don't really know all the newer faces in the guild. My apologies."

"Oh, it's okay!" She grinned brilliantly. "I understand! After all, Mystogan wasn't around the guild very often, either!"

He crossed his arms over his chest, which might have looked like an action to guard himself, if not for the kind, friendly glow on his face.

"That's right." He cocked a grin. "He's the one who taught me to be secretive and humble. He really was the best mentor a guy could ask for."

"I bet he was."

A moment stretched between them. Both wizards smiled falsely at one another, though their bodies were as frigid as the night.

"I find it kind of strange, though…" Dreamer tilted her head slightly, as she continued to stare into his gaze. "Mystogan never told me he had an apprentice. Actually, he mentioned quite a few times that I was his only real friend here."

Mest's thin eyebrows raised in a brief flash of surprise. He quickly regained composure, his smile widening.

"He _was_ pretty secretive. I don't think he liked people knowing he had an apprentice."

"You're a liar."

His lips parted in shock. Dreamer took a threatening step forward, crossing her arms over her own chest. "Mystogan and I were close. You must not have done your research. It was smart, though, using him as your scapegoat while you manipulated the rest of the guild. I almost fell for it."

The imposter's smile fell.

"I knew you were lying, but it was harder to figure out what kind of magic you were using. I tried to remember everything I knew about you, and realized that I couldn't remember anything at all, except for what everyone else remembers. That's what gave it away. You manipulated the memories of everyone in Fairy Tail."

She left out the fact that her own abilities in deception made it easier to detect a magic that manipulated perception.

Mest stared at her in shock and frustration. She kept her eyes locked on his, and willed up her magic.

 _Trust. Guilt._

His eyelashes flicked slightly, and he cleared his throat. "You caught me." He threw his hands up, then narrowed his eyes sharply. "I must have overlooked some details about Mystogan. So… now what happens?"

She swallowed another nervous lump, and kept her head held high in confidence, in control. "Who are you? And what should stop me from turning you in to Master Makarov right now?"

He blinked, as if debating whether to answer—but she didn't release her charm, just continued to will guilt and helplessness onto him.

"Honestly…" he sighed. "I'm with the Magic Council. Believe it or not, I'm not here to hurt anyone in your guild, just to collect evidence. Fairy Tail has been getting away with too much, lately, and the Council is fed up with it. They're looking to incriminate the guild once and for all. I'm only here to keep an eye on you people during these S-Class trial. And, as far as turning me in… Well, I can't stop you. It's my fault I screwed up, and I'll have to deal with the consequences. Damn… there goes my promotion."

She could feel his sincerity. Satisfied, she finally closed her eyes and took a deep breath. All the indecision and internal conflict she'd been dealing with stirred and boiled in her mind. After a long moment, she looked back up at him.

"I want to make a deal."

The temperature seemed to drop even further after these words.

"A deal?" He cocked his head, causing his dangling earring to sway.

"I… won't turn you in. On one condition." Her face was serious, fists clenched in determination. "You will manipulate the guild member's memories so that they think I'm supposed to be with them on the boat headed for Tenrou Island."

He raised an eyebrow, and scanned her over. "You want to lie to your guildmates to participate in the trial?"

"No." She shook her head, fiercely. "I don't want to compete. I just need to be there on the island. Can you do that?"

He chewed his lip, eyes flicking back and forth between hers.

 _Trust. Trust. Trust._

"If I do it… you'll keep quiet about the Council?"

"You have my word."

He pondered for another moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. I can do that. You must have your own reasons."

She let out a puff of air, relieved. This was it. The choice had been made. She would go to Tenrou Island and check out Carla's suspicions for herself.

"Thank you, Mest. Or whoever you are." She took a step past him.

"Wait."

She froze, and glanced over at him again.

"You…You're Dreamer Cumula, aren't you?"

Dread plummeted in her stomach. She swallowed hard. "I don't…"

"Yeah, you're definitely her." He put his hands on his hips, a dark expression clouding his face. "You charmed me into telling you the truth."

She faced him again, standing her ground even though chills from more than the cold now shuddered through her body. "Does that matter? I know who you are, now."

"And _I_ know who _you_ are." He scowled. "Dreamer Cumula, charm magic user. You've been on our list for a long time. You know it's illegal to use that kind of magic, don't you?"

"But I don't use charm items, I—"

"Which is the only reason we haven't arrested you already. That, and you have the protection of Makarov on your side. That's not your only offense though, is it? You're the one who harbored a criminal member of Oracion Seis. You didn't really think we'd forget about Midnight, did you? Rumor has it, Cobra's hiding under your roof, too."

She nervously played with the sleeves of her coat, as she desperately searched for a way out of this confrontation.

"I-I don't know who—" she started.

"Right. Macbeth and Erik, not Midnight and Cobra." Heavy sarcasm dripped from his frown. "Save it. You think the Council doesn't see through that feeble excuse?"

"So?" She was shaking, but did her best to remain tall and proud. "Are you going to arrest me?"

Time splintered between them.

"Dammit." He scowled and looked at the ground, teeth clenched in frustration.

"You can't turn me in," she said, guessing at his thoughts. "Because you'd blow your cover, and you really need to go to Tenrou Island, don't you?"

A breeze fluttered the tail of his red and yellow striped coat.

"Damn," he repeated. "Lahar would have my head for this… Tricked by a charm wizard…" He put his fingers to his temples and sighed. "…You said you need to get to Tenrou?"

She nodded. "I do."

"…Fine." He straightened up, and faced her. "I'll help you. With my memory reconstruction and your charm magic, it will be no problem getting your guild members to think you're supposed to tag along. Don't blow my cover, and I won't arrest you."

Dreamer nodded, gravely. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me." His turquoise gaze was harsh. "We might have an agreement right now but, after this trial—"

"You'll turn me in?" she finished for him.

"I might be able to get you a pardon for cooperating with an investigation. But as for your murdering friends…"

She winced at his word choice. "You still intend to arrest Macbeth and Erik," she stated.

"They were _never_ going to get away, Miss Cumula. You have to know that."

The weight of this knowledge was an anchor, tied around her chest. It was foolish to think that Makarov's protection could extend that far. It had always been only a matter of time…

She shook her head, very slowly. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," she said, firmly. "For right now… You and I are allies."

He stared at her for a long moment, then gave a brisk nod. He held a hand out to her. She took it, squeezed, and shook his hand, setting the deal in place. Then, their hands returned to their respective pockets, leaving the agreement hanging in the icy air between them.

They stood awkwardly, for a long moment. It could have been a few seconds, or maybe minutes. What was time, when deals were being made—deals that would determine the future, the fate, the turn of events in time itself? What was this agreement but a tick on a clock, signifying a point in a countdown until time would shatter? A single splinter in time, unimportant in the moment—yet, when combined with the weight of all these little moments, the tiny splinters, would result in a complete crack in the wood? A complete break of time…

Three more days until the shatter.

* * *

 **3 Days**

Dreamer had no way of knowing when or if Mest had used his magic on the guild members until early afternoon the following day. She was finishing a stack of Team Derelict Heart job reports to turn in to Freed. The menial task kept her distracted, at least somewhat, from the hurricane of thoughts that threatened to drown her. She was chewing on a pencil eraser, trying to add up the damages they'd caused on a recent job, when Levy took a seat next to her with her own stack of papers.

"Hey, girl." The bluenette smiled brightly as she tapped the stack on the desk before her. "Let me guess, you're filling out Macbeth and Piper's paperwork again?"

Dreamer sat the pencil down and gave a wan smile. "How did you know?"

Levy held up an entire binder labeled 'Gajeel Redfox.' "Believe me, D, I know your pain." She sat the binder down and pulled out a pen. "I'm trying to cram in a bunch of work before we go, too! Are you excited?"

Dreamer blinked a few times, uncomprehending. "Sorry?"

"The S-Class trial, silly! Are you excited that you get to be there?"

It took Dreamer another moment for the words to sink in. Then, she quickly plastered on a smile and beamed brightly at her friend. "Oh, yeah! Of course!"

Levy pushed her bangs back with her headband and put on her glasses. "I guess it's easier for you. You don't have to worry about competing. I'm so nervous that I feel like I'm going to puke."

Dreamer forced a giggle, and nudged Levy with her elbow. "Are you sure you're nervous about competing, or about looking good in front of someone?"

The other girl's cheeks flushed bright red. "I-I-I don't know w-what…"

"You don't have to be shy, Levy," she teased. "My boyfriend is Gajeel's best friend. I'm in the loop."

"Y-Yeah, but…" she twirled hair around her finger, shyly. "A-Anyway! Master must be expecting these battles to get pretty intense if he's bringing you along!" She scrambled to change subject.

Dreamer had no idea what memory Mest had planted in everyone's head, so she had to be careful. "Yeah, you're right!" she agreed, wholeheartedly, as she slid her paperwork into a manila file.

"I mean, what are you going to do if you have to try to calm Natsu down in mid-battle?"

Dreamer thought about it. It seemed like… Mest had manipulated the guild into believing that Makarov had chosen to bring Dreamer along to help if the fights got out of hand. Maybe as some sort of referee. She had to give him credit. That was a viable excuse.

"Natsu's easy," Dreamer said, casually. "He always forgets that I can charm people, so he falls for it every time." She laughed, quietly. "I'm more worried about getting stuck trying to calm Erza down… She's too level-headed. She'd know in a heartbeat if I was trying to charm her!"

Levy shuddered. "Oooh, girl, you're so right."

And so it went. They chatted for a few minutes about what they expected the trial to be like, and whether Levy had a real chance to win. Dreamer teased her mildly about finding time to sneak off with Gajeel during the trial, to keep up her carefree, happy façade. Then, she turned in her file and bid Levy goodbye.

As she left the guild hall, she passed Mest in a doorway. They shared a look—a brief nod. The deal was still in effect and each of them was carrying his or her weight.

* * *

That night, after tucking Syllest in for the night and hugging Mirajane, she began to pack her bag. Just a couple of nights worth of clothing, a swimsuit, extra pairs of shorts. Then, she sat on the edge of her bed and tried to plan for the worst. If Resmond really was there… She'd confront him, see for herself that he was there and ask him what he wanted. But, she wouldn't be t _otally_ stupid. She'd have a flare ready just in case, to call for help. Gildarts, Erza, Mirajane, and Master would all be close by, along with some of Fairy Tail's strongest members. There was no way Resmond could stand a chance against all of them. She planned it all out, the distance she would keep from the dangerous man, when she would call the alarm… _if_ she even needed it. _If_ Resmond even showed up. Carla hadn't seemed too concerned lately. There was a lingering sense of uncertainty about her, but also excitement and hope. Dreamer chose to cling to those feelings. _Excitement. Hope._

She stayed awake deep into the night, planning. Not just how she would handle Resmond, but what she would say to her guildmates at the Port of Hargeon. How she would charm Makarov, the most likely to see through her charm. And, perhaps most importantly, how she would explain herself to Macbeth if he ever found out what she'd been up to.

Macbeth…

She thought about what Mest had said. The Council would come for him. She'd have to tell him as soon as she got back. There was no way Fairy Tail would let them take two members away, but they also couldn't go to war against the Magic Council over a couple of ex-assassins. They'd have to figure out a way to keep Macbeth and Erik safe. They might have to send them into hiding for a little while. What would Dreamer do then? Travel with Macbeth to some safe-place until the Council gave up?

 _If that's what it comes to._

But she didn't have the energy to worry about that now. It was exhausting enough, worrying about one day at a time. Worrying about Tenrou Island and Resmond. The Magic Council issue could wait until afterward. There _would_ be an afterward, after all.

Wouldn't there?

* * *

 **2 Days**

Everything was going smoothly. No one suspected Mest or Dreamer. It was common knowledge that Dreamer was going to Hargeon with the others. Dreamer and Piper, along for the ride. Even Makarov remembered making this decision.

Mest was very good at what he did.

Two more nights. Tonight, tomorrow, and they'd leave the next morning. Never had a day seemed so immense to Dreamer—looming over her like a fifty-foot tidal wave that she was walking straight toward. Every minute, a step closer to the wave. There was only forward. The steps were time, and time didn't pause or move backward. Time led her to the destination.

It was afternoon. It was warmer outside today, because the sun had been out since dawn, undisturbed by even a single drifting cloud all day long. Now, that warm sunlight shone in through a guild window, creating a puddle of light on a bench in the hall. Curled on that bench like a cat basking in the sun, was, of course, Macbeth.

He was sitting cross-legged, head down, sunlight gathered on his dual-colored hair. He was using his rolled-up magic-carpet as a pillow, balanced on his knees, his forehead resting against it. The steady rise and fall of his back indicated peaceful sleep, along with the occasional snore and drool. Dressed in the outfit he'd bought in Rose Garden, months ago, to conceal his identity for Dreamer and Syllest's protection. A gray coat, long-sleeved. A white scarf and gloves, black halter top and jeans. Pink-diamond dream catcher hanging below his collarbone.

Dreamer wouldn't admit that this was her favorite outfit for him. Or that it had to do largely in part with how the high fabric of his shirt and low resting jeans exposed so much of his lower stomach and hips.

She leaned against a pillar and watched him for a long time. His steady breaths, the occasional murmur of unintelligible words. It almost seemed like a sin to wake someone like this. So, she didn't. Not right away.

Instead, she joined him on the bench. She felt the warm sunlight cover her shoulders as it did his, and she leaned against his arm. She raised her hand and touched his sleeve, on the place where his Fairy Tail mark was, under the fabric. Then, out of curiosity, her fingers drifted upward, delicately pushing strands of white and black aside so that she could touch his temple. She wondered…

It was a nightmare, but not like before. The feelings of terror weren't prevalent anymore. They were still there, the iron bars, the darkness, the screams. But it was… muted. Numb. And, interlaced through the old nightmare, were pleasant images that disrupted the chaos with peace. Green, rolling fields. Smiling friends. A dancing child.

She watched his sleeping mind like a slideshow.

There were new nightmarish images. These were not as faded as the Tower of Heaven memories that haunted him. Over and over, the image of herself, impaled by diamond before his eyes… Whenever this thought crossed his sleeping mind, Macbeth mumbled out loud and tensed. The hole in her chest. The blood. His breathing grew shallower in the guild hall.

Dreamer was about to disconnect and wake him up, because she could feel his terror spiking at these memories. But then, pleasant dreams interrupted once more. A heat, a fiery and powerful emotion weaved through images of herself on a hospital bed. An emotion like an ache as he dreamed of kissing her, tasting her, his hands on bare skin. Memories giving way to fantasy. Her blouse coming unbuttoned, a sigh of pleasure, more skin…

She gasped and dropped her hand, steam rising from her red cheeks. She fanned herself off in panicked embarrassment.

There was a chuckle from nearby as Gray walked down the hall, past them. "What did you expect?" the ice-wizard commented. "He's a guy."

"I don't need your opinion!" she hissed, still blushing from head-to-toe.

Macbeth stirred and let out a yawn. Dreamer pointedly scooted two feet away from him on the bench as she regained composure.

 _Note to self: no more dream-peeking on Macbeth…_

"Mn…" He stretched his arms into the air as he woke up. "Dream?" He glanced over at her through sleepy eyelashes and blinked a few times. A smirk quickly settled on his dark lips. "What a coincidence."

She giggled nervously, fighting the ever-present blush. "H-Hey, Macbeth! You're awake!"

"Were you waiting for me?" He cocked his head slightly, red eyes twinkling.

"I…" She gulped, then met his gaze evenly. "Yes. I was."

He clearly wasn't expecting this response, because his eyebrows raised sharply and his cheeks took the slightest tinge of pink.

"What do you want?" He asked, in a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.

"I… was hoping you'd take a walk with me. Just the two of us."

He regarded her with suspicion, one eyebrow raised. His swirling eyes combed her over, taking in her outfit—a heavy coat, pants, and boots, clearly worn for walking in the snow.

"Now?" he asked.

"If that's okay with you?" she caught his eyes. _Trust me._

His bottom lip jutted in a pout. "Do we _have_ to go on a walk? There are plenty of indoor things we could do if you just want to be alone with me." Though this was not said with the edge of a smirk, it still made her cheeks feel hot again.

"Come on! When's the last time you got exercise, anyway, Macbeth?" She put on her biggest, most charming smile.

"I exercise in the gym with Gajeel," he countered.

"Okay, when's the last time you got sunlight? And not through a window?"

He opened his mouth. Paused. Closed his mouth. Then scoffed and turned his head. "Fine. I'll let you drag me through hell, sweet Dream." He mumbled and finally stood up. "I'm bringing this." He put the rug under his arm.

"W-Why?" Dreamer sweat-dropped at the sight of the flying device.

"To threaten you with if you try to make me do something stupid," he said, seriously.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" She put her hands up defensively. "It's just a walk, Macbeth!"

He narrowed his eyes. "Easy for you to say. It's cold. And bright. And you accuse _me_ of being a sadist."

"Oh, stop being dramatic." She laughed for the first real time this entire week, and hooked his free arm with hers. "It will be fun!"

It was chilly outside, but not unbearable. In fact, in direct sunlight, it almost felt like too much to be wearing a coat. Macbeth walked beside her, a slight step behind, allowing her to lead the way. He didn't ask where they were going, just walked in silence, albeit with a pout buried under the fur of his scarf.

Dreamer hummed quietly, a tune that Rosy used to sing to her in the orphanage, and when they lived together, before…

It was a song about time magic. She would sing it to comfort her little sister, to tell her that everything had meaning—every small moment, every splinter.

Like these moments with Macbeth, walking silently side-by-side, down the streets of Magnolia.

She glanced at him. His red eyes were fixed forward, foggy with deep thought. It used to be, that when he did this, he appeared to be brooding—resenting the dark paths of his life, cursing Fairy Tail, yearning for peace. But these days, his thoughtfulness seemed… calmer. She wondered what he thought about. Continuing to make amends for the crimes he committed as an assassin? His old friends? A family he knew of before the tower, maybe? What had happened to Zero and whether he would seek him out? Or maybe he wasn't thinking of the past, but the future. Maybe he was thinking of life in Fairy Tail, and at Dreamer's side.

She smiled, then took his hand, interlacing her fingers in his. She watched his pupils retract, eyebrows shoot up in shock. She giggled at the suddenly splotchy redness to his face.

"What are you doing?" He snapped his hand out of hers, and carefully avoided eye contact.

"Oh…" she felt the slight bite of rejection. "I'm sorry…"

"Tch." He gave an exasperated sigh. "Don't surprise me like that, unless you want to be hurt," he warned. His tone was harsh, but as he spoke, his fingers brushed hers. He gripped her hand this time, and allowed her fingers to fill the spaces between his.

He had taken his glove off.

They held hands the rest of the way. The winter air couldn't penetrate the warmth of their palms pressed together. Dreamer was giddy, red-cheeked, the entire time she led him. Out of Magnolia and into the forest. Up a hill, to a ridge facing the city.

"Where are you taking me?" he snapped.

"Right here!"

They were in a small clearing. The snow here hadn't melted, and it crunched under their boots when they came to a stop. Dreamer closed her eyes and smiled as she breathed in a deep breath of crisp air. When she opened them, they were wet with emotion. _Nostalgia._

Macbeth frowned at her, but didn't speak.

"Do you remember?" she said, in barely more than a whisper. "This is the place where you fought Piper, the night I brought you to the guild for the first time."

Macbeth's eyebrows raised. He looked around the clearing. To him, it was nothing but trees and snow, the backdrop of Magnolia behind them. "You can remember the exact location in a forest of something that happened over half a year ago?" His voice dripped with sarcastic disbelief.

"Of course!" She met his eyes, pink irises standing out brilliantly against the landscape. "That night… It's special to me."

His eyelashes fluttered slightly. He cleared his throat and pointedly looked away.

"You made fun of my laugh," she said suddenly, with a teasing squeeze on his hand.

"What?"

"That day," she explained with a slight giggle. "You said I had a fake laugh."

"Tch." He rolled his eyes. "Of course, you would remember something like that." Quieter, "Typical woman."

Dreamer laughed out loud, the sound echoing off the barren tree trunks. "You're starting to sound like Piper!"

Macbeth didn't say anything for a long moment. When he did speak, his voice was low, with a familiar teasing drawl. He stroked her knuckle, slowly. "I remember something too, Dream."

She held her breath, immediately baited by the seductive drawl. She looked at his devouring red eyes.

"I remember you touching my lips," he said, black lips drawing up in a smirk.

"Y-You do?" Her cheeks flushed with heat, and her lacrima heart pulsed rapidly.

"Your fingers…" he squeezed them for emphasis, "were so soft."

She broke his gaze, taking her turn to clear her throat in embarrassment. "I-I'm sure you didn't care about things like that back then."

The snow crunched as he took a small step closer to her. "You'd be surprised," he said, close enough that she could feel the cloud of breath as he spoke. "No woman had dared touch me like that before you, sweet Dream."

Invisible animals scrambled in her stomach, and she was afraid steam would start to rise from her skin. "…Are you admitting you've never had a girlfriend before?" she asked, teasingly, to break the intensity of the moment.

It worked. He scoffed, lip immediately dropping into a pout. "I'm not even going to respond to that pathetic question."

"Haha," she grinned apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Shut up." He looked away with red cheeks.

Silence ensued. The quiet crinkle of brown leaves in the trees. The chirp of a lone bird somewhere to the right.

"Everything is different now…" Dreamer whispered this, as tears collected on her eyelashes. "Has it really been over six months since I found you? We were enemies back then, and now…" she sighed happily at the sensation of her hand in his. "We've come so far, haven't we?"

"Dream…"

She gasped when his fingers suddenly gripped her chin. He tilted her head and turned her so that she was looking at him. His eyes flicked back and forth between hers, a look of consternation painted on his face. Searching for something.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, seriously.

"I-I…" Panic erupted in her chest. "I just wanted to spend some time with you, Macbeth. That's all."

The look on his face said that he didn't believe her. He cocked his head slightly, causing a white braid to fall from his shoulder. His eyes narrowed even further. "You're lying to me, Dream," he said, darkly. "You've been hiding something."

Her lips parted in shock. She shook her head, too rigorously. "N-No! I really…"

"Even _you're_ not this sentimental," he scoffed, gesturing at the clearing. "It's almost like…" he bit his lip in thought. "…you're regretting something. Something you did or you're going to do. Am I wrong, sweet Dream?"

She'd thought she could trick _him_? She thought she could keep her secrets away from Macbeth, of all people? The one who made her most vulnerable of all? The one who's gaze could strip her to the bone and reveal everything—all her secrets and lies?

Maybe it was better this way. She should have been honest with him in the first place. If she told him the truth, she wouldn't have to bear all this weight on her own. She knew he would help her.

"Macbeth… I…"

 _I can't._

 _Trust. Trust. Trust. Love. Desire. Confusion. Trust. Trust. Trust._

"I really just wanted to be with you," she said, as she poured the emotion into him. "I'm not hiding anything, I just…" she smiled sheepishly as she lied. "I love you."

His cold expression shattered. He blinked twice, an expression of confusion passing over his face, then relief, immediately followed by a warm intensity and a smile.

He was successfully charmed.

"I see…" His eyes twinkled, all memory of his accusation gone from them. He didn't even seem concerned about the possibility of her lying now. It was like he'd completely forgotten. Now, he was caught up in pink eyes. "You wanted to be romantic."

She blushed, while simultaneously sighing in deep relief. "You got me," she beamed brightly at him. "I wanted to get away where no one would bother us."

"Hm." He dropped his hands to her waist and tugged her closer. "It makes sense," he said, with the edge of a smirk. "Since you're going to Tenrou and leaving me here all alone."

For a moment, she almost had a meltdown. But then she remembered Mest's magic. Macbeth's memory had been altered too. He knew she was going to Tenrou, but he didn't know the real reason why.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I'm going to miss you."

"Mm." He wrapped his arms tighter around her, and lowered his head. "You want to make the most of our time together, do you, Dream?" His voice was low, breath tickling her ear.

She swallowed nervously, feeling lightheaded at his touch, and the closeness of his lips to her skin. She could only nod in response.

"Oh, Dream…" his lips brushed her ear, then trailed along her jaw, leaving tingles in their wake. "What should we do together?"

"U-Um…" a shiver went through her body. "I just want… to be close to you."

His lips ghosted across hers, but he denied her the pleasure of a kiss there, opting instead for kissing her cream-colored bangs.

"You're teasing me," she pointed out, weakly.

"Always," he smirked wickedly. Then, he dropped his hands to her shoulders and pushed her down. She squeaked in surprise, bracing herself for landing in the snow, but was met with the wool of his magic carpet instead.

"Macbeth!" She gasped in terror, immediately freezing up on the flying device.

"Relax," he said, as he sat next to her on the rug. "It's not even in the air."

"What are you doing?!" In the air or not, Dreamer's fists were still clutching the carpet fringe with white knuckles.

"I'm making our time together more comfortable," he said, smirking. "Is that so wrong?"

She was about to bark out a protest, when she caught the look in his eye. He was making himself comfortable on the rug, looking at her, and holding his hand out. There was tenderness in his eyes, despite the sadistic smirk. And he was reaching for her.

She gulped, set aside her fear, and went to him. He tugged her forward, so that she was sitting on his lap, facing him. Then, he bit a finger on his remaining glove and pulled it off, before taking Dreamer's face in both hands. His eyes searched hers for a moment. She could feel his uncertainty—the lingering, childish fear that was never quite sure what he should do around her. She smiled, and nodded, granting him permission without the words ever being spoken.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, and kissed her.

She followed his lead, deep into this kiss, into this moment of time. She sat aside her fear about Resmond, her guilt for lying to Macbeth's face, and her pride, to indulge in the feelings they held for one another. Long, exploring kisses—breaths of time. It may have been winter around them, but in the space they shared, it was spring. Warmth, light, newness. She cupped his face as her mouth moved with his, fingertips trailing the scar he'd received from Resmond. And he stroked her back while he held her, palm upon one of her own scars. The scars marked a splinter of time where they had been trapped in fear and hopelessness—but they also marked a separate splinter, where trust and love could be found, almost as tangible as the rough edges of a scar.

"Macbeth…" Tears rolled down her cheeks, as her emotions breached the surface. She breathed against his collarbone, shivering despite herself. "I love you." It felt so important to say this now, in this pocket of time. For some reason, she felt that it would be the last time she would say it before she left for Tenrou. So, she needed him to feel it—the sincerity in her tone.

"Sh." He rolled her off him, so they were both laying down on his magic carpet, arms still around one another. He held her close, and kissed her again. He did not return the sentiment, at least not verbally, but that was to be expected of Macbeth. Even indulging in these depths of sentimentality and comfort was unusual for him, but then again, she _had_ prodded him with her magic just a _bit._

Dreamer obeyed. She said nothing more as they lie like this. She just smiled and curled up against him, breathing his chamomile scent in the chilly air.

Time didn't exist around them. It was as fluid as seconds passing in midsleep. Like they were dreaming together and, in one sense, they were. Dreaming of many more moments like this in the future. Endless opportunity, ample time to embrace, to express love in ways other than words. They were caught in mid-dream, peacefully sharing this pocket of time.

Time… There seemed to be so much of it.

* * *

 **The Last Night**

Dreamer sat on the edge of the eight-year-old's butterfly-patterned bed, and brushed the child's hair.

"It's not the same, brushing your hair when it's so short," she commented, as she flattened a wet lock. Regardless, she had combed through Syllest's hair at least a dozen times, just to enjoy this moment spent together. At the same time, Syllest was combing the black hair of a little doll.

"Mom, how long are you going to be gone?" she asked.

Dreamer sat the hairbrush down, which was the cue for Syllest to climb into bed. Dreamer pulled the sheets back for her, then tucked them over her small body after the child had snuggled down into the bed.

"It should only be a few days," she answered, smilingly. "It depends on how long it takes everyone to complete the trial."

"I wish I could be there!" Syllest sat up straight, her pink eyes bursting with excitement. "I want to see Auntie Mira fight! OH! No, I want to see _Erza_ fight!" Her cheeks turned rosy at the thought of her hero. "She's so cool, Mommy… I want to be just like her when I grow up."

Dreamer laughed and rolled her eyes. "I have a feeling the two of you will be very similar."

Syllestra beamed under this praise, then sank back below the covers. She tugged her doll onto her chest. "Does this mean Grandpa Jezran is gonna stay here and watch me?"

Dreamer nodded. With both herself and Mira gone, someone had to be the girl's caretaker.

Syllest's bottom lip jutted in a pout. She looked pleadingly at Dreamer, black eyelashes fluttering. "Can Dad stay instead?"

The older woman felt her lacrima heart stop for a moment. "Dad?"

"Yeah! Macbeth, silly!" She giggled—a sound like chiming bells or birds chirping. "Can he live here while you're gone, instead? He can get me ready for school in the mornings, and brush my hair and pick my clothes out, and he can sleep in your bed, and we can make cookies and he can take me out for ice cream every night and—"

"Haha," Dreamer cut her off with a forced laugh. "You'll… have to ask him about that." She made a mental note to strictly forbid Macbeth from coming to the apartment while they were gone. She had an unwarranted image flash in her mind of him digging through her closet. Her cheeks took color.

"Well, sweetheart," she stood up. "I have a long trip tomorrow and I have to be up early, so—"

"Mom, wait!"

Dreamer paused, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"What is it?"

Syllest's face flickered with complicated emotions. Her lip trembled, as if she was trying to find courage. Out of concern, Dreamer instantly felt for her emotions. _Curiosity. Fear._

"Can you tell me about her?"

Dreamer blinked slowly. She sat back down on the bed and regarded the child carefully. "Who?"

"My other mom," she answered, in just above a whisper. "What was she like?"

Dreamer closed her eyes. She felt the strange pulse in her chest, the quickening of her blood. She calmed herself with a slow breath, as she thought. Thought about Rosy and all their years together—the kind of person she'd been, the kind of person she might have become.

Part of Dreamer didn't want to answer. Another part knew that she had to.

"Rosy…" her name always felt light on her tongue, like a cloud that would drift into the heavens where her sister now lived. "She was very special." She opened her eyes and looked seriously at Syllest. She smiled, gently, as she continued. "She was beautiful, inside-and-out. She was a hard worker, and she was always kind."

Syllest drank her words as if they were a potion. Her oversized eyes scanned Dreamer's face, as if they could will out more information.

"Did she have magic?" she asked.

Dreamer opened her mouth, then paused. Finally, "She did."

It wasn't magic in the classic sense. Rosy had never practiced spells and wasn't born with obvious talents. But she _did_ carry magic… It was in that smile. Dreamer had often wondered if Rosy _had_ inherited some emotion magic after all, because something about that smile could put an entire room at ease. It could fill you with hope, even in the dark places. In the cold nights lying together on creaky cots in orphanages. In old, drafty apartments when the electricity had been turned off because bills couldn't be paid. That smile was magic like nothing Dreamer had ever known. Warmer than fire magic, brighter than star magic.

"Do you miss her?" Syllest asked.

Dreamer crawled onto her bed and laid beside her. The child instinctively turned on her side and snuggled against her surrogate mother.

"I miss her every day," Dreamer answered.

Syllest didn't say anything else for a while. She stared at the collar of Dreamer's shirt, lips pursed as if in deep thought. Then, "I would miss you every day, too, if you went away."

Dreamer felt the words sink in. And, for some reason unbeknownst to her, she started to cry.

Syllest reached out and touched Dreamer's hand, giving a comforting squeeze. "Don't cry, Mommy," she whispered. "My real mom isn't really gone."

Dreamer blinked through sobs, trying to make sense of Syllest's blurry face.

"She's still here," Syllest said, with a small smile. She pressed her palm against Dreamer's chest. "In your heart." Her little face screwed up, and she frowned. "Well… you don't have a heart, but…"

Dreamer couldn't help it. She laughed out loud. Hot tears still streaked her face, but she couldn't restrain the freeing laugh.

"Oh _yeah!_ " Syllest was suddenly throwing the blankets off her and sliding off the bed. She skipped to her plastic vanity and picked up a small, velvet box that Dreamer hadn't seen before. Or maybe she had… It might have been in Mirajane's room at some point…

The child ran back to the bed and dove under the covers once more, before holding the box out to Dreamer.

"What's this?" She took the proffered gift.

Syllest didn't answer, just stared expectantly at her, bright eyed and rosy.

Dreamer opened the box, and inhaled sharply at what was inside. It was a pink-diamond heart, perfectly rounded, a feat that was incredibly difficult for maker wizards who manipulated hard substances to accomplish.

"I know that bleeding guy already gave you a new heart but…" she looked hopefully at her. "I made you another one! Just in case yours gets broken again."

Dreamer choked on another wave of tears. She threw her arms around Syllest, and tugged her hard against her chest, crying into her hair.

"Thank you, Syllest. Thank you, so much."

"You're welcome, Mommy," Syllest hugged her back. "I love you."

* * *

 **The Day**

"Hurry up, Dreamer~" Mira called from the living room. "We don't want to be late!"

"I know, I know!" she called back to her friend. "I'm trying to get Syllest ready for school!"

The raven-haired girl was dancing in circles with a yellow backpack, singing about how she couldn't wait for Christmas break.

"Okay, okay, let's go!" Dreamer ushered her out the door, while carting her own suitcase for the trip.

Waiting on the sidewalk were Romeo, Macbeth, and Jezran.

"Romeo!" Syllest ran straight to her friend, immediately rambling on about something. Dreamer sat her suitcase down with a huff, as she faced Macbeth and Jezran.

"Thank you for watching her while I'm gone," she said, breathlessly. "Pops, I know _you_ know when bedtime is and when to take her to school and everything, but _you_ …" She turned on Macbeth with a sinister expression. "You're only allowed to take her out for ice cream once. And do _not_ send her to school with makeup on. It's okay if she wears it for fun around the guild or home or whatever, but she's still too young to be wearing it to school. And _no_ , she cannot sit in with you while your band practices, because she doesn't need to hear that kind of language and I'd rather her not be deaf by the time she's twenty. _I'm serious_ , Macbeth, stop looking at me with that stupid smirk, you know she's going to beg to be there, and you're _not_ allowed to give in to her begging. You _have to_ be firm, she needs direction in her life otherwise she'll go crazy. Remember that time when no one could find her for hours and she was hanging upside down from the Sola tree because she'd been trying to catch squirrels? Yeah, don't let that happen."

Jezran chuckled and put a hand on her shoulder. "Dear me, Dreamer. Do not fret, I will watch both children." He cast Macbeth a twinkling gaze.

She gasped when Macbeth suddenly tugged on her wrist, pulling her away from the old man. He tugged her roughly against him, causing unanticipated flutters to explode in her abdomen.

"Stay." He commanded, in a low voice against her hair. "They don't need a referee. You can still stay with me."

 _Stay with me._

Her breaths were shallow, her cheeks hot.

 _Stay with me._

She _could._ She could forget this whole thing. Carla's prophecies, the possibility of running into Resmond on Tenrou island. She could stay with Macbeth and Syllest.

"I…"

She imagined his arms around her, holding her tightly against his chest in her apartment with Mira gone. She imagined possible nights with him, his closeness, his scent. All she had to do was stay, and those dreams could become reality. Those sweet dreams…

"I won't be gone that long," she said, with sudden finality. "You'll have plenty of time with me when I get back."

She reminded herself that that time might be spent on the run from the Magic Council, but it didn't matter. She had to keep her priorities straight.

Macbeth pouted, just slightly, then let her go.

"Do I get a goodbye kiss?" she asked.

"No."

She laughed, having fully expected this response. And since she'd been expecting it, she'd already planned how she would respond. While he was still smirking with all the pride of thinking he'd flustered her again, she stood on her tiptoes and crushed her mouth on his, taking him by surprise. It was little more than a peck, but when she plopped back on her heels, Macbeth's eyes were wide and his cheeks pink. Now, it was Dreamer's turn to give a victorious grin.

"Tch." Macbeth huffed, and pointedly looked away, crossing his arms over his chest as the blush touched his ears. "Go away. I don't want to see your stupid face."

Dreamer giggled.

"Dreamer! We have to leave now!" Mira said, exasperated, with two bags strapped on her arms.

"Okay!" Dreamer grunted when Syllest slammed into her without warning, little arms circling her waist.

"I love you, Mom! Hurry and come home so we can play at the park!"

"Alright, alright, I will!" She ruffled the girl's hair and laughed when she ran back to Romeo's side.

"Yes," Macbeth's voice cooed over her shoulder, with a familiar dark drawl. "Hurry home so we can play, _mommy_." His lips brushed her neck.

Dreamer gasped and quickly stepped away, all the while shivering and blushing head to toe. "And _that_ is my cue to leave."

Macbeth smirked, seemingly satisfied that he'd had the last victory of the day.

Dreamer picked up her suitcase and met Mira on the street. "Bye, everyone!" She waved, grinning brightly at the faces of her family. Macbeth, Jezran, Syllest… Some of the most important faces she'd ever had the luxury of seeing during the time she'd had in this life.

The fragile, splintering time.

* * *

The sky was blue. Seagulls flew overhead, their calls sounding in the air as banners fluttered in the breeze. The ship was waiting for them at port, all the Fairy Tail members who would cross the sea to Tenrou Island. They were smiling, laughing, joking, as the warm sun fought the chilly air. Dreamer and Piper were among them, that fated group.

Dreamer glanced over at Mest as they approached the boat. He caught her look out of the corner of his eye, and gave the smallest nod. Their agreement had held.

One by one, they boarded the ship. She was the last. And before she stepped onto the wooden ladder, she looked behind her. The port of Hargeon stretched up the hillside, bustling with activity. Beyond that, was Magnolia, the home she was leaving behind. But only for a few days.

She felt hopeful. Resmond wouldn't be on the island. The trial would run smoothly, and someone would emerge victorious, and then she would return to her family, breathing a sigh of relief.

With these thoughts comforting her troubled mind, she stepped aboard the ship.

The wood of the ship creaked as it broke port and drifted into the open sea. The wooden planks, swaying and cracking, reminiscent of the trees they once were. Trees, swishing in the breeze, with overlapping branches stretching in all directions, like the tree on Tenrou Island—like the tree of time.

Time was about to branch in two directions, as it often does. And like ants scurrying on the bark, the break in time would separate them. Splintering, shattering time.

A few days.

Seven years.

Dreamer and Piper were headed for Tenrou Island.

Jezran, Macbeth, and Syllest were not.

And so, Time splintered.

* * *

 **A/N: And that's it~ The final chapter of One Sweet Dream. I look forward to your thoughts and reviews about this entire story (to include your hatred toward me for this ending). Please, let me know what you think, what this ride has been like for you, and what you expect to happen in the sequel! Your responses are more important now than ever, while I'm still constructing the plot of the upcoming story to follow.**

 **Thank you all, so much, for coming this far with me. It's been an entire year, and I would never have been this dedicated to a story if not for the positive feedback I received along the way. You are amazing readers, and I am honored to have taken up a bit of your time with this story, which has become so close to my heart.**

 **Stick around for my post-fic Extra Content, if you'd like, while I work on the sequel! I won't be posting twice a week now, but I'll try to keep you entertained in the interim while I work hard on continuing Macbeth and Dreamer's adventures.**


	76. EC-1: Piper's Torment

**A/N: Hey, guys! Here's your first post-fic extra content scene! A lot of you requested a Piper scene, so here you have it. A day in the life of Piper Michelle Overon, as told from his POV. Just a warning, the language content is harsher than any of the main fic chapters.**

* * *

 **Piper's Torment  
**

Yo. The name's Piper. You's all know me pretty good by now, right? Yeah, yeah, you's knows all about my old crush on Dreamy on how much I hate Macbeth's goddamn guts.

But lemme tell you's.

You's have no idea how much of a pain in the ass that bastard really is. I'ma walk you's through a day in my god-forsaken life as the Night Terror's roommate, a'right? Hey, his name is "Terror" for a reason, you's hear me? As in, he's a terror to lives with. So, if you's think you's got sympathy for the guy after all this story and shit about his reformation and turnin' into a decent guy and whatnot, THINK AGAIN. I don't care how long he sticks around Fairy Tail, the guy's always gonna be a scumbag. I'll prove it.

So's, this is how my day starts:

I wake up about six. I used ta sleep in on weekends til nine, but not since tall, dark, and girly moved in and started ruinin' my sleep schedule with his goddamn snoring. So, anyways. I wake up about six. 'Course, Mac's still out cold, snoring like a bear, droolin' all over his pillow and shit (how the hell Dreamy can think about kissin' a guy who spews drool like a fountain is beyond me, but hey).

I goes to the bathroom to take a shower, brush my teeth, get ready for the work day, you's know. Back when I was a bachelor in my own pad, this was a nice relaxin' part to my day. But not anymore. No, now's I gotsta find my damn toothbrush on the counter. Listen, I ain't making this up.

There's this thick coat of dust on the whole left side of the counter—pretty sure it's the powder shit he puts on his face. Then there's his makeup case. It looks like a damn suitcase with about ten thousand compartments for brushes and pencils and paint and shit. Yeah, it looks just like Reedus's art kit, is what it looks like. Problem is, Mac never puts his damn stuff INTO the compartments. It's just thrown around, all over the counter and in a big shit pile in the center of the kit thing. Half of it ain't got the right lid on or got a lid at all, which means there's like fifty miscellaneous lids all over the counter and in the sink too.

Only part of his makeup he keeps organized is that damn purple lipstick. He's got it all set up in front of the mirror, TWELVE of 'em. And they all say some different color on them, but I'm tellin' you's they're exactly the same. "Midnight Plum," "Violent Violet," "Dark Delila," like what the hell is this shit!?

AND, he never cleans up after himself when he takes the shit off, because there's washcloths laying around with purple lip-marks all over 'em (I had to buy a whole new set of washrags thanks to that dick. Ended up buying him three packages of makeup remover wipes so he'd quit ruinin' my shit).

And like, it don't even make sense, you's know?! It ain't like the guy does his makeup different every day or something. He wears the SAME DAMN makeup every day, so how the HELL is there twenty-thousand different colors and tools and brushes and torture devices and stuff I ain't never seen before clogging up my living space?!

Oh yeah, then there's his straighteners and curlers. I say "ers" because he's got more than one of each. He's got a dry straightener and a "damp" straightener, whatever the hell that means. A bunch of different spray bottles so's he doesn't "damage" his "perfect hair" by burnin' the shit out of it.

Point is, there's black and white hairs everywhere—makeup dust on everything—mascara streaks on the mirror—and somehow, I gotta find my damn toothbrush. You know how many times I found my goddamn toothbrush buried under one of those lip-stick stained washcloths? Or knocked onto the ground because there was no room on the WHOLE damn counter for it?!

So's, I started just leavin' my toothbrush in the shower where I t'ought it would be safe. Plus, ain't nothin' wrong wit' brushing your teeth in the shower. Two birds, one stone.

The _shower._

God. Dammit. The _shower_.

I gots a bottle of body wash. That's all I need. Shit, body wash works just as well as shampoo. What the hell you's need anything else for if you's just trying to get clean?

But Mac. He's got shampoo and body wash and facial scrub and I don't even KNOW what half of that shit is supposed to do! All's I know is that it takes up the entire wall, and the bottles of it used ta fall every time I took a damn shower and I'd trip on 'em and cuss Mac out while he was fast asleep—so's I bought one of those shelfs that hangs on the shower wall, you's knows? It WOULD help, if Mac even used it for god's sake. I swear on the First, he ignores it just to piss me the hell off.

So he's got all this girly smelly shit that's got our bathroom smellin' like the girl's dorms—gives me a damn headache every time I'm in there. Oh, and the guy's got a whole collection of pink razors. I don't even want ta know, but if I had a damn guess, I'd say he shaves his legs. Guess he's gotta when he wears tight-ass boots and shit. I know for sure he shaves his pits.

Seriously, is he even a man?

OH! And this bastard is one of those sickos who leaves his hair on the shower wall and doesn't clean it up after he gets out. So's, guess who's always picking up goddamn Mac hair every time he uses the bathroom.

You's guessed it. ME.

Basically, every morning gets off to a shit start livin' with this guy. I brush my teeth, take a quick shower with my one bottle of wash, get out in five minutes, get dressed.

Mac's still sleepin' of course, and if I don't wake him up before 6:30, he won't be ready in time for work. You's heard me right, it takes 'im two hours to get ready. Two. Damn. Hours.

So, since I'm already pissed about the bathroom, I wake him up by chucking one of his boots at his head (what else am I supposed to do, really? I ain't allowed to cross the blue line to his side of the room anyway).

"Fuck you," he says.

"Good morning, asshole."

This is how we greet each others on a good day, mind you's. Sometimes he wakes up an tries to force strangle me with his magic and I gotta throw casino chips at 'im to make him stop. Ain't gonna lie, a couple of times we've had to use his powder makeup shit to cover up bruises before we face Dreamy for the day. If she knew we beat the shit out of each other in the mornings…

I listen to him stretch and groan and wiggle around on his bed for somethin' like a whole half-hour while I eat some grub.

I labeled every goddamn thing in this fridge. I used the blue tape and a sharpie marker, but I KNOWS Mac takes my shit anyway. Especially the milk. How do I knows? I only use milk in the mornings with my cheerios. One half-gallon jug lasts me at least a week you's know? Not since Mac moved in, though. Now, a GALLON of milk lasts me THREE days. Try and tell me that bastard ain't stealin' my milk.

Bet he drinks from the damn jug too. Sicko.

I think I'm gonna ask Freed to enchant my milk so's he can't open it. Or maybe I'll rig it with an explosive so when he tries, it blows up in his girly face. Ha.

So, I eat my breakfast and read the paper while this guy wakes up. Like I said, takes him at least a half hour to get out of bed. He looks like hell when he wakes up too. His hair sticks all over the place, bags under his eyes, lookin' like a zombie. Wish Dreamy could see him like this—bet she'd be turned off real damn fast.

Then he goes to the bathroom and shuts the door, and it's kind of nice because I knows I ain't gonna hear or see him for the next hour and half, but it also pisses me off because I know he's makin' a goddamn mess in there.

Usually, I leave before he gets out. The more space I can put between myself and transgendo, the better.

Next time I sees the bastard is when I'm havin' coffee wit' Dreamy and Pops.

This used to be another relaxin' part of my day. A cup of tea and honey and a mug a joe while the sun comes up. Real nice. Dreamy'd talk all about her plans for the day, or the afternoon with Syllest. I could sit and listen to her talk for hours, man. Soothing as healing magic.

But NOW.

He sits with us. He smells freshly girlied up. Sidles right up next to my girl and cuts those nasty-red eyes at her. It's creepy as hell. He looks at her like… like he wants to _eat_ her. I can't stand it.

Thank god, he doesn't stay long. He has his cup of tea, whispers some flirty, scary as hell shit into Dreamy's ear, she blushes like she _wants_ to be eaten, then he walks off to bake cakes for the guild 'fore Erza comes huntin' him down. (Once she tells him: "I better have something on this plate. Frankly, I don't care if it's a cake, or your head." I cracked up so hard I almost bust my gut).

By 9:30, we're in the guild hall checkin' the job board. Somedays we find work. Others, we ain't so lucky. If it's a real slow day, Dreamy gets restless. She starts to help Mira behind the counter, or goes to the library with Levy, or works on all ours paperwork since she's just sweet like that. I play cards with Cana if she's around.

Usually, I ain't gotta deal with Mac until later in the day. But like I said, sometimes I ain't so lucky. Sometimes, my dice numbers are real low and that's when I just know that grimey son-of-a-bitch is gonna get on my last nerve.

Like this once, it's after lunch, right? Dreamy's gone off shopping with some girls. She invited me and Mac along, but I aint gonna get caught dead in some lingerie store with Dreamy, and Mac would rather sleep, so's we stay behind. I'm hopin' he sticks with Gajeel and practices guitar in the guild hall. I goes back to our room and get myself cozy on the couch in front of the TV to play some video games. Bix got a new PlayBox4, so I bought his version 3 for a damn good deal.

So's, I'm playing it, right. It's a damn good way to relieve stress, by shooting shit up.

Then the door opens.

And I'm like _goddammit._

This asshole goes straight to the fridge, pops the top off of MY milk, and takes a loooong swig. I could deadass kill him for that, I swear to god. But I pretend like I don't notice cuz I'm TRYIN' to blow off steam, you's know?

He sits on his bed and I'm hoping he just falls asleep. 'Course I ain't that lucky. Instead, I feels him staring at me. There's no demon on Earthland with a creepier stare than Mac, lemme tells you's. It makes you's feel like… like a banana bein' peeled right open, right.

"What?" I snap, after I gets so nervous I die for the third time in a row on the screen. How the hell's I'm supposed to focus with Lucifer's eyes on me?

"…What are you playing?" he says.

"None of your goddamn business." I restart the level and try my best to ignore him again.

"…Can I play?"

He's like this sometimes, a'right? Like… he acts like he's a normal guy or something. It's weird as hell. The other day me and few guys was workin' out in the gym, right? Me, Gray, Laxus (by extension, Freed). And _this_ guy comes along and, first of all stares at us, which is one-hundred-percent against heterosexual-guy-code. Then, he sort of creeps forward and asks if he can join.

Dreamy says its cuz he's tryin' to fit in. I says it's cuz he's a freakish devil-spawn with a mad confused sexuality.

"Sorry, bubs. Only got one controller."

I know he looks down at controller number 2 sittin' on the console in front of me.

He doesn't say anyt'ing again for a while. And I keep dyin' because I know his creepo eyes are drillin' into me.

Then this bastard laughs.

"What's so funny, asshole?"

"Your gaming skills are laughably pathetic," he says.

"Shut the hell up! I can't concentrate with you's staring at me!"

"Oh? Do I make you uncomfortable, Piper?"

"You're a sick freak, you's know that?"

He's quiet while I respawn.

"I bet I could destroy you at that game."

A'right, now he's officially pissed me off. So I pick up controller two and throw it at him.

"You're on, dickhead."

I knows he did that on purpose. Pissin me off so's he could get what he wants. But whatever. I'm gonna put the bastard in his place with some good ol' first-person-shooting.

So we's play for a couple hours. He ain't half bad, but he's not as good as he acts like he is. I even let 'im join in a co-op campaign after a while. Don't get me wrong, though. It ain't fun, and I still hate his guts.

I figure after this I'll work on Dreamy's birthday card. So, after we's declare a draw and I go to my side of the room, I sit at the desk to write. I ain't some great poet, but I'm thinkin' of doin' a little enchantment on the card, you knows? Make it really special.

Well I'm lookin' up easy enchantments in this book Levy lent me, when the door slams open so hard, it'd put a hole in the wall if there wasn't already a hole from it being slammed open too hard.

"Beth, are you ready?!"

It's Gajeel, with his electric guitar.

"Finally," Mac says with a yawn.

Gajeel cracks open an energy drink and hands it to Mac. He's got a bag of chips, too, which tells me they ain't planning on leaving the room any time soon.

Pretty soon, he's got Mac doing some god-awful vocal exercises. I already got a headache, but this is just gettin' out of control.

"Alright, here's your sheet music," Gajeel hands him some paper. "Ready to practice?"

He strums on his guitar, Mac waits for the cue, then he joins in with that… that… screaming, or roaring, or whatever the hell it is.

"GOD DAMMIT I'M TRYING TO FOCUS HERE!"

They ignore me, of course. I swear, Mac just screams louder.

So, I'm kicked from my own room while the boy-band practices.

Now my headache is ten-thousand times worse and I have a real hankering for a drink. So I goes to the bar and stare at the alcohol selection and wonder why the hell I ever gave it up. MJ passes me a Shirley temple cuz she sees me staring. Cana slides in next to me and lets me vent. She's good like that—always listening.

I hang out here for a whiles, until I think it might be safe to go back to the room. The guild's shut down for the night, now.

When I go back to the room, the bathroom door is shut and the shower water running—cuz for some unknown reason, sadist cross-dresser Mac has to shower twice a day. He's damn lucky we don't pay a water bill.

But that means, I'll have to take a piss somewhere else, cuz god knows he ain't leavin the bathroom for the next hour.

After I get laughed at by Gray for usin' the public facilities, I go back to our room. Mac's still locked up, and I don't give a damn, so I dig in the freezer for a frozen pizza.

The freezer's empty.

I swear to god, I'm gonna kill him. He's catchin' these hands the minute he comes out of that bathroom, that good-for-nothing sleazebag.

We're low on groceries (go figure) so I make do with a peanut-butter-jelly sandwich for dinner. I clean up my half of the room. Really wish Mac would clean his. There's empty wrappers everywhere, and a bunch of crushed energy drink cans. I figure, what the hell, and step over the blue tape to pick up his garbage.

"I hate you's, Mac," I say. I'm throwing a bunch of garbage in a bag. I'm picking up some pillows to toss on his bed when something falls out of one.

I seriously don't wanna know. I don't.

Goddammit.

I pick it up because I'm curious as hell. I can't says I'm surprised to see it's a picture of Dreamy. It's a dumb nice one too. She's on the beach and she's wearing _that_ swimsuit. You's knows the one. The pinkini with those cream daisies that match her hair—two of 'em, plastered on the fabric right where it counts, if you knows what I mean. She's bendin' over in front of a sandcastle, waving at the camera, and the angle catches everything just right, from boobs to ass. Smiling ear-to-ear, wet hair, face a little flushed from the sun.

I'm staring at it (longer than I probs should be, to be honest), when it occurs to me that this picture was in Macbeth's _pillowcase._ What the HELL does he need a pic of Dreamy in his pillowcase for?

I gots one good idea why, and I suddenly want to punch the bastard in the throat.

I slip the photo into my pocket cuz there's just no way in hell I'm gonna put it back in his pillow.

An hour later I'm listening to music on my bed—real music, blues baby, not that metalcore shit.

He finally comes out of the bathroom. He takes one look at me and all of the sudden, my headphone cord is tightening around my neck.

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

"You were on my side of the room."

"Let go of me, asshole!"

"You touched my stuff."

"What the hell's you's need a pic of Dreamy under your pillow for, huh?!"

I know I fucked up now. There's this certain look he gets when he's not foolin' around anymore. A real dark look. An _assassin_ look.

He drops me and picks up his pillow. He checks it for the photo, which obviously is gone.

"Where is it?"

"You's don't need it, bastard. Dreamy know you's keep a pic of her for your personal use, sicko?"

Now I'm up against the wall getting crushed by magical energy.

"Give it to me, or I will make you writhe in the darkest pits of hell for all eternity."

"Not on your life, bubs!" I'm tossing cards.

He's dodging. I'm puching him in the jaw, he's kicking me in the nuts (asshole. That's another strike against guy-code). Before long, we've broken the lamp, the TV, and knocked over the fridge. We'd keep at it, too, if Laxus wasn't kicking the door open and threatenin' to kick both of our asses.

"You're as bad as Natsu and Gray," he says. "Take it outside so the rest of us can sleep!"

"Give me the photo," Mac says, ignoring him.

"You's can pry it from my cold, dead hands, asshole!"

"What photo?" Laxus is holding us apart by the collars. I ain't gonna show him but he gives me a glare that says I'm gonna face the wrath of Zeus if I don't, so I hands it to him.

"You're fighting over a picture of Dialga?"

"Dreamer," we says at the same time.

So, Laxus pockets it. "I'll keep this."

"Not you's too!"

Laxus smacks our heads together and shoves us to our respective sides of the room.

"Kiss and make up. If I have to come back here, you're sleeping outside."

Mac holds his tongue, cuz he's a wimp. I hold my tongue too.

Pretty soon it's us in a messy room with no light.

"I hate you's," I say, for probably the tenth time today.

"I'm going to make you pay for this," he promises.

"Go to hell."

"I _am_ hell."

And finally we goes to bed. Except it ain't really sleeping because in less than ten minutes, Mac is snoring and mumbling in his sleep. And I'm laying awake, starin at the ceiling, thinking about how I'm gonna wake up at 6:00 tomorrow morning…

And go through the same. Damn. Thing. Again.

* * *

 **I hope you guys got a laugh out of that. xD**

 **I have a few more extra content scenes I'm working on. I'm thinking... that I'll take one of _your_ ideas and turn it into a scene. So, requests begin now~ What sort of scene would you guys like to read? And no, Middream lemon is not a viable option at this point. Ask me during the sequel. ;) Though... if sexually tense fluff is what you're after, we might be able to bargain. **

**Also, if any of you have questions or anything you want clarified about the story, ask away. I'm happy to answer questions. :)**


	77. EC-2: Is This Love?

**A/N: Here you go, my lil Dreamogan shippers. The story of how Dreamer and Mystogan met and she charmed him out of sleeping pills. ;) Also, I liked the request for an Edolas Dreamer and Mystogan extra content scene. I think I'll add that to my list.**

 **Howlingwolvesonfire, you asked about what happened to Giseld and Sânge after the final arc. Giseld: I'll address in the sequel, and Sânge: I'll have some fun with in one of these extra content scenes.**

 **I was also PM'd asking when the sequel can be expected to drop. I intend to start posting sequel chapters by December. I know some of you are very eager, but I like to have a lot of cushion before posting chapters so that I can stay regular with my postings and not flake out on you. :) Hopefully, these extra scenes will keep you entertained in the meantime.**

* * *

 **Is This Love?**

It was a soft chiming that filled the air. The hollow jangling sound of wood against wood, of bells, of rattling metal. The soft thud of the man's careful footsteps as he kept to the shadows of the buildings in Magnolia. He was dressed in heavy layers of dark clothing, hair shrouded by dark headband, face covered by a green scarf. Only one amber eye could be seen, the rest of his body masked by the dark clothing and bandages. He carried a collection of staves upon his back, and one in his hand as he walked.

This man was Mystogan, and he was returning home to Fairy Tail.

It was midday, so Mystogan was sure to watch his steps carefully. He intended to be quick. Walk into the guild hall, activate a sleeping spell, grab a job request on the second floor, and leave. As always, his privacy was of the utmost importance.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before he would enter those doors.

 _In and out, Mystogan. Same as always._ He coached himself and strode through the door, staff raised to unleash the spell. He had barely begun to mutter the incantation, however, when a voice called to him.

"Look who's back," the gruff voice said, in an almost condescending manner. He hardly needed to glance to his left to know it was Laxus Dreyar. "Before you do it, hear me out for a minute." He spoke quickly, his eyes darting at the staff that Mystogan held.

Mystogan lowered the staff, breaking off the sleeping spell. He stuck to the shadows just beyond the guild hall door, aware of the few eyes that had noted his entrance already.

"There's someone who wants to talk to you," Laxus continued.

Mystogan's gaze flicked to the bar counter where Master Makarov was rosy cheeked and drinking ale.

"Not the old man," Laxus cut him off. He gestured over his shoulder with a thumb, toward a table to the far left of the room. There sat a young woman, maybe a year or two younger than Mystogan. She had short hair, not quite shoulder length, the creamy color of custard. She was petite, dressed in a long white blouse that clung snugly to her curves, to about mid-thigh. Draped over the arms was a peach-colored shawl. Black leggings and black flats, adorned with peach flowers.

She was a girl he'd never seen before, but her presence and the guild mark on her shoulder told him that she was a member of his guild—likely a new recruit.

"Her name's Diglett," the blond said. "And she's been asking about you for a while now."

"Me?" Mystogan blinked in surprise. A sense of uncertainty immediately fell upon him. What if she knew…?

"Yeah, you." Laxus shrugged. "So, do me a solid and talk to her, would you?" He scratched his chin. "I promised her I'd put a good word in."

This seemed strange. Laxus, doing a favor for some woman? He was hardly the selfless type, but when he mentioned the girl, his expression softened somewhat.

"I cannot," Mystogan said. He could not risk his identity being exposed. The less people he talked to, the better.

"You can trust her."

The two men locked eyes.

"Are you sure?" Mystogan's words were measured. Careful.

"Yeah." Laxus gave a brief nod. "I'm not sure why, but… she's trustworthy."

That was all the blond said on the matter. He adorned his headphones and walked up the stairs to the second floor without so much as a glance back—leaving Mystogan standing uncertain. He looked back at the woman at the table. Everything about this situation was setting off red flags. A stranger, interested in talking to _him_? One who seemed to have somehow gained the trust of Laxus, of all people. No… There was something going on here, he just didn't know what.

He calculated his next move. He could approach her, to see what she wanted from him. Of course, this would be putting his identity on the line, but if she already knew… On the other hand, he could simply leave, but that could be dangerous too, if she was in fact someone who knew who he was.

Before he could finish weighing the odds in his head, he felt eyes boring into him. He blinked once, then realized he was caught in the gaze of the strange woman.

Her eyes were… _breathtaking._

They were as pink as the sunset on the floating river of Edolas, and they sparkled with the same sort of shimmer. They were overly large and round for her small face, but not in such a way that it detracted from her appearance. On the contrary, her pink eyes seemed to be her greatest accentuating feature.

She smiled brightly at him, and stood from the table.

He fled.

Or, well, he broke eye contact and quickly went up the stairs. He didn't expect her to follow him, as only S-Class wizards were permitted on this floor, and to his relief, she did not. With his heart beating somewhere in his throat, he scanned the board for a new job. He chose one, and descended the steps to leave, all the while with his staff at the ready with a sleeping spell, though it didn't seem he would need it this time. There weren't many people in the guild hall at the moment, and most had already seen him make an appearance, or were too drunk to really pose a threat. His only concern, as he made for the doors, was the strange girl. What did Laxus say her name was? Delaine?

"Mystogan?" A feminine voice called out to him.

He ignored her, instead picking up his pace as he strode through the guild hall doors with the job request clenched in his fist. There was a scuffling sound behind him as small feet struggled to catch up.

"You're Mystogan, right?"

He paused. The midday sun weighed harshly on his dark clothing. His nerves were on edge, mind trying desperately to understand the motives this woman might have for calling out to him. He had been thorough in hiding his tracks. Could she really have found him out? Was he just being paranoid?

"I'm sorry, I know you must be in a hurry." Her voice brimmed with innocence and sincerity.

With a dry swallow, he turned to face her.

"Hi!" She waved, long eyelashes fluttering around those impossibly pink eyes.

"…Hello."

"I'm Dreamer," she said, a bright smile touching her cheeks. "I don't think we've ever met before."

He was certain they had not.

"Dreamer?" He racked his brains, trying to remember if he'd ever heard the name before. Did he know a Dreamer from Edolas? He couldn't think of one. And he'd never seen anyone like this girl before.

"That's me!" She curtsied, with a cheerful giggle.

"…Is there something you need from me?" He cut to the point. He didn't mean to snap or sound rude, but judging by the startled and slightly frightened change in her expression, he hadn't come off kindly. Still… It was better to be regarded as cold in this world, if it meant he could keep his tracks covered.

"I…" Her cheeks took color, almost matching the hue of her eyes. She looked at him, swallowing him with pink irises until he felt lightheaded and strange. "I just… I heard a little bit about you from the other members at the guild, and I'm kind of new here, well not super new but within the past six months… And anyway, I also read Sorcerer Weekly and I've seen pictures of you and I know about your sleep magic and I think that's really cool because I use dream magic, haha which is funny because my name is Dreamer, and I thought it would be really great if I could get to meet you sometime…" Her face took on more color as she rambled, but she never broke eye contact—not even to blink. "But I know you're a really busy man and you don't really like people in your bubble, I totally understand that, so if you don't want to talk to me, that's okay, I won't be offended, honestly—I just thought I would try, at least…"

He blinked. The lightheaded feeling seemed to have intensified. He felt strangely content when he looked at her. Dreamer. "You want… to talk to me? I don't understand." He spoke slowly, neurons refusing to fire in his brain. "Why? What do you intend to accomplish?"

"I only want to get to know you, Mystogan." She spoke with absolute confidence, those eyes determined, hauntingly beautiful.

No… Something nagged in the back of his mind. He knew better than to let someone "get to know" him. It was dangerous. It was complicated. And yet… As he was lost in the eyes of this woman, he couldn't help but wonder if it would really be so bad, to talk to her a little bit. She didn't seem like a bad person. On the contrary, she seemed to radiate trustworthiness, kindness, sincerity… He wasn't sure what it was about her, but she was someone he could _trust_ …

He swallowed again, forcing himself to shake his head. "I must go," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"To the train station?" She cocked her head to the side and her cream hair swayed in the sunlight.

His eyes widened. "How did you—"

"That job request," she pointed at the paper closed in his hand. "It says the location of the job and you can only get there by train, right?" She smiled warmly. "So that must be where you're going."

"Yes, you're right." He slid the paper into his pocket.

"It will be a few hours before the train heads there though," she pointed out. "So, in the meantime, maybe you and I could get lunch?" She gave a winning smile, eyes pleading, hands clasped.

Her eyes were so warm and inviting. He suddenly felt like it would be very nice to spend some time with her. She was trustworthy, and likeable.

"…I…" He cleared his throat. "I would prefer to avoid staying in town."

"Oh, duh, right." She bopped herself on the forehead. "You like your privacy. Okay, then! How about we have some sandwiches by the river in the forest? We can have a picnic and get to know each other. It will be fun!"

 _Fun_ … Yes, he imagined it would be. For some reason, at the moment, there was no place he would rather be than sitting with Dreamer by the river, eating sandwiches.

"Wait right here!" She held her hands up and darted back inside of the guild, skipping as she did so.

The lightheaded feeling remained. It was as if a warm fog had settled on him. He felt _relaxed_ and… well, _excited_ to spend time with her. Actually, it had been so long since he sat comfortably in the presence of another human… He wouldn't deny that he craved that sense of friendship and peace. Surely it could not hurt to enjoy an hour in the company of a guild mate.

So, he waited. And after a few minutes, Dreamer returned with a Tupperware container of sandwiches, two water bottles, and an award-winning grin.

"Let's go!" She beamed at him, and started for the woods. She glanced over her shoulder and met his eyes, her gaze telling him to follow.

He could not disobey a request from such eyes.

* * *

Before long, the two of them sat beside the river, munching mustard sandwiches. He sat with his legs crossed, occasionally glancing over at the young woman whose feet were in the river and who was humming, as if she didn't have a care in the world.

"You are… new to Fairy Tail?" He spoke, because the silence felt awkward. Because something about her was alluring. He wanted to understand.

"Yeah, that's right." she said through a mouthful of white bread. She swallowed before continuing. "I just joined with a man named Jezran. We really like it here." A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips. "I feel safe for the first time in… a long while."

Her gaze drifted and her smile fell, but only for the briefest instant. Quickly, she looked at him again, pink eyes penetrating.

"You use sleep magic?" she changed subject as fluidly as the water around her feet.

He gave a brief nod. "Among other things," he said honestly.

"Could you teach me?" Excitement shone in the sparkling irises.

"Unfortunately, that's not possible." He ran his fingers along the wood of the staff that lay at his side. "My magic is not innate. Rather, it comes from the objects I hold." He felt a mild nagging in the back of his mind, warning him that he shouldn't give details about his magic to strangers, but he pushed the feeling aside. He knew he could trust Dreamer.

"Oh, really?" Disappointment was obvious in her tone. "That's too bad. I think it would be really cool to be able to put people to sleep like you do."

He scanned her over. After a moment of deliberation, he dug in his cloak pocket and withdrew a vial of small pills. He held it out to her.

"Huh?" She blinked at him.

"Have them," he commanded, gently. "They are sleeping pills. They will instantly send a person into the REM stage of sleep, where they will be temporarily paralyzed. I have little need for them as long as I have my staff."

Her eyes were round with awe. She took the vial with trembling fingers. "I can really have these?"

He nodded. A smile crept along his lips under the green scarf, at the sight of the young woman ogling at the bottle of simple pills. When she looked at him again, there were tears of gratefulness in her eyes. "Thank you, Mystogan. This is so kind of you. You're sure you don't need them?"

"I am sure." Driven by some wild whim, some need for her to see his own sincerity, he pulled the scarf down to reveal his own lips. "They are a gift. From a friend."

She stared wide-eyed at him, before tears spilled and ran down her cheeks. "I'm sorry… I'm such a cry-baby." She wiped at her eyes with her peach-colored shawl. "Thank you, again."

He smiled at her. Then it suddenly occurred to him that he had shown his identity to her. The nagging in the back of his mind grew stronger. Again, he pushed it aside.

"Dreamer…" He leaned forward on his palms. "May I ask a favor of you?"

"Of course." She nodded, still fighting tears.

"Please, do not tell anyone what I look like. I prefer to remain unknown."

She made a motion over her chest, crossing her heart. "You have my word."

They sat in silence after this. She kicked her feet in the river and continued wiping tears from her cheeks for a long time. He remained criss-cross, occasionally looking away from the tops of the trees to the top of cream-colored hair and sunset eyes.

It was strange, how connected he felt to her after having only met this woman. The thought made his head buzz and his cheeks take sudden color. Why _did_ he feel this way?

"Hm?" She caught him staring. "What is it?"

"N-Nothing, I…" Was he stuttering? His skin felt hot, suddenly, like he was boiling under the layers of clothing. "It's just strange, I… I don't connect with people often, but you Dreamer… There is something about you that… is very attractive to me."

Her eyes widened and her cheeks took color as well. She sweatdropped and nervously tugged on a cream bang. "Oh, you know… Some people just click better than others! It's probably because we both use a sort of sleeping magic! I'm sure that's all it is!" She laughed, nervously.

Was she nervous because of _him_?

"No…" he shook his head. Since it still felt like a thousand degrees under his clothes, he discarded his headband and brushed blue hair away from his eyes. He'd already decided it didn't matter if she saw his true face. "This is _different_ … I can't place it. I think you're special, Dreamer."

Her eyes wandered from his hair, to his eyes, to his lips… She made a surprised squeak sound and coughed awkwardly.

"Trust me, I'm not special! Just your average, ordinary, everyday wizard!"

"Impossible." He shook his head. Instinctively, he moved closer to her, crawling forward to close the distance between them. "There's something about you…" He reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from one of her captivating eyes.

"M-Mystogan, don't you have a train to catch?" She leaned away from him.

"Yes, but I have some time." Her eyes… "Could this be...?"

"Be…?" She blinked nervously.

"Is this love at first sight?" There was no other explanation. He felt so at _ease_ around this woman, even though they'd just met. He felt like he could trust her with his life, his secrets, everything. There was such a powerful, overwhelming sense of _faith_ he had in her. To think he could _feel_ this strongly about someone in Earthland… He'd never felt so much trust and dedication from anyone other than Pantherlily.

"A-Ah… No, you know, I don't believe in love at first sight." She stood up, suddenly, to his disappointment. "I'm flattered though, really! And I think you're, um… You're very attractive and kind, Mystogan." She frantically fixed the creases in her shirt.

"You don't feel the same way?" He stood with her. "It's the only logical explanation for this fated encounter, wouldn't you say?"

"No, there are _plenty_ of other explanations, I'm sure." She stepped back. "I really had fun having lunch with you, Mystogan! Now, if it's okay with you, I think I'll just go…"

"Dreamer, wait." He clutched her wrist as she tried to flee. She gasped and turned to face him, eyes wide. He was caught up in them again. They were a capturing net, a trapping vortex, a confining magical circle. "I'm sorry. I'm only trying to understand."

 _Wait._

A confining magical circle.

Those swirling, sparkling, endless sunset eyes… Yes, he was sure of it now. Her eyes looked like magical circles because that's exactly what they were.

"Maybe next time you come back in town we can go on another date and get to know each other better before we start talking about things like love, okay? It would be fun, let's plan for that, but for now I really have something I need to take care of at home, so—" She tried to gently pull out of his grip at the same time he released her on his own. The unexpected change in inertia knocked her off balance and she stumbled… facedown into the river.

"Dreamer!" He pulled her up by the shawl. She gasped and sputtered for breath. "Are you alright?"

"Yes! I mean, no… I mean…" Her eyes flickered back and forth between his, but he could see it now. The charm magic she was wielding in those irises.

He'd been duped.

"Mystogan, thank you." She wrung water out of her clothing and avoided his gaze. "I'm really sorry for causing you trouble. I… I need to go!" She stumbled away, dripping through the woods.

He watched her run. Panic settled almost immediately in his skin. He had been so foolish! Lured into a charm right from the beginning. Laxus had likely been under the same kind of enchantment. But for what purpose? What did Dreamer hope to accomplish by charming them? She knew of his identity now…

"That was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen," came a grouchy old voice from somewhere to his right. He glanced over to see Porlyusica, or as he knew her, Grandeena. The pink-haired old woman from Edolas, who'd decided to live in this world years ago.

He said nothing. Merely fixed his headband and scarf over his face.

"Charm magic? Really? You fell for charm magic cast by some human girl?"

"It's very good charm magic," he snapped, in his own defense.

"Thieves come in all shapes and sizes, don't they?" Her voice was condescending. "Now what?"

Mystogan had no idea, to be honest. He still didn't understand what Dreamer had hoped to achieve by tricking him.

"Aren't you going after her?" Porlyusica chided.

"…No." It was true that she'd inadvertently stolen those sleeping pills from him, but he couldn't deny that it had been nice to have a conversation with another person, instead of always being alone. "Who is she?"

The pink haired old woman gave a huff and closed her eyes in something like irritation. She sighed. "You know I don't like to be involved in the affairs of humans. How should I know?"

"You were watching the whole time." He met her red eyes evenly. "And yet you did not intervene."

The old woman's eyebrow twitched. "Maybe that's because I was having too much fun watching the prince of Edolas, an S-Class wizard, being charmed by simple emotion magic." She scowled. "You really should be more careful, you know." She reached under her cloak and retrieved a red apple. She tossed it into the air and he caught it with his free hand.

Mystogan pulled his scarf down slightly so he could take a bite of the apple. The sweet taste was welcome after mustard slathered pieces of white bread. _Who eats mustard sandwiches anyway? There wasn't even meat on them…_

"While I don't know what her purpose was for charming you, I can vouch for her. She means no harm." It appeared to be very painful for Porlyusica to give praise like this about a human, by the way her face scrunched up even more than usual.

"Then, you do know her?" He took another bite of the apple and chewed it thoughtfully.

"No, but I am an old acquaintance of her guardian, Jezran Excalibur. Beyond that, Makarov asked me for the favor of treating her condition, an episode of which arose shortly after her entrance into your guild." She crossed her arms over her chest. "She has a pure heart despite the tragedies she's endured in her life. And it is very unlikely she knows anything of Edolas, or this world's Jellal, for that matter."

He mulled over the words. Condition? Tragedies? Still, if Grandeena could vouch for the girl, then she must not have dark motives. It didn't explain why she charmed him in the first place though.

"I think…" he spoke slowly, "she was sincere in wanting to learn sleep magic." The disappointment on her face when he told her that his magic came from his staff had been very real, along with the bliss she exhibited when he gave her the sleeping pills.

"Then, why not just ask?" Porlyusica scowled and stood rigid.

"I would not have spoken to her at all if I had not been charmed. It was a wise choice, on her part." Another bite.

"If that's what you think, then fine." She shrugged and made toward the edge of the clearing, in the direction of her forest home. "Like I said, I don't like to meddle in human affairs. Whether you choose to confront her or not is none of my business. Just try to be more aware of your surroundings next time. You're lucky she wasn't your enemy."

"Indeed." He nodded politely in her direction as she passed. She was right, of course. He was very lucky Dreamer wasn't his enemy. In fact… he felt very lucky to have spent time with her, charmed or not. He felt very lucky to have accidentally stumbled upon… a friend.


	78. EC-3: Fairy Tail Halloween

**A/N: Hey, friends! I'm sorry that it's been a while! A word of advice for all aspiring authors: Make sure you have plenty of cushion before posting chapters to a long story, if you intend to have long fics. I'm really glad I was able to post all of my main chapters before life got crazy. I apologize for falling a little behind on these extra content chapters, but here you go! I reward your patience!**

 **Here's a special Extra Content Halloween scene, in celebration of the holiday~!**

* * *

 **Fairy Tail Halloween**

The moon was rising above the hills, full and orange, like a pumpkin before carving. It cast an eerie glow on Magnolia, creating the perfect setting for the night's festivities. Spider webs hung from lamp posts. The Sola tree was filled with flickering orange and black lights, and lights shaped like spiders. Dancing skeletons hung from its lowest branches. Bowls of candy sat outside the shops. Children cackled as they strode through town in costumes, baskets slung over their arms.

It was Halloween in Fiore, and the citizens of Magnolia were in celebration. None more, perhaps, than the members of Fairy Tail, of course.

The guild hall was covered with so many decorations that it was almost unrecognizable. Spider webs, ghosts, tomb stones in the yard, skeleton dogs and cats (and dragons). Creepy music inviting children to the doorsteps for candy, while the adults gathered inside for the annual Halloween party.

Just outside the guild garden, two figures were crouched down, heads close together so they could whisper.

"This is it, the perfect opportunity for an extraction," one man said, his glasses glinting with deviousness.

"They won't see us coming," his partner agreed. He nodded his head, and a single, dangling earring caught the light.

"We must not get caught, Doranbolt, under any circumstance." The first man's purple gaze was serious. "If we do, you will be responsible for altering the memories of the entire guild."

"Yeah, I don't want that hassle." The second man winced, as if just imagining it was painful. He ran a hand over his shaved head. "But listen, Lahar… Do you really think they're stupid enough to fall for this?"

Lahar closed his eyes while he untied his usual ponytail. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." He shook his hair out. "Even if I did not think so, I think we can count on them all being drunk enough to fall for it, at least."

Doranbolt smiled wryly. "Well… can't argue with you there."

"Right, well then. Shall we?" Lahar stood up, and presented a cloth offering to his partner. Doranbolt took it, and allowed the white sheet to unfold.

Both men donned the sheets, which hung loosely over them, with slits for the eyes. The most low-budget, basic ghost costumes imaginable.

"Remember our targets," Lahar said.

"The two Oracion Seis members, Midnight and Cobra," Doranbolt replied. "Extract them, bring them to the capitol."

Ghost-Lahar nodded to confirm. The two men stood, then approached the back doors of the Fairy Tail guild hall…

* * *

Piper looked at his watch, and groaned. He looked back at his reflection in the mirror, dabbed some hair gel on his fingers, and slicked it through his baby-blue hair. Despite his attempts, he couldn't control the cowlick he'd had since he woke up that morning.

"Dammit, it ain't worth it!" He threw his hands up in defeat, and resolved to wear a beanie instead.

He turned to leave the bathroom, then gasped in horror. He stumbled back, knocking bottles of hairspray and makeup off the counter. When he regained composure, he scowled in disgust at the shadow in the doorway.

"The hell, Mac?! As if you's ain't scary enough! What're ya tryin' to give me a heart attack?!"

Macbeth smirked, then stepped inside the bathroom to look at his own reflection. "Hm. I'm not surprised a coward like you is afraid of something as harmless as a cat, Piper."

"I ain't afraid of cats, asshole! I'm scared to death of you's tryin' to be cute! Ugh, I feel like I'm gonna puke!"

Macbeth adjusted his cat-ear headband, still grinning at his reflection. "I think Dreamer will approve."

"Goddamn—I can't do this. I'm leavin' Fairy Tail, pickin' up a life as a traveling magician. I can't take one more minute of you's and Dreamy's preening for each other like… like… hell, birds in spring or something."

"I'm not a bird." Macbeth lifted a makeup pencil to draw whiskers on his face. "I'm a cat."

"I hate you's. Get the hell out of my way." Piper shoved him aside, nearly messing up the fourth whisker.

"My, my, someone is exceptionally foul today," Macbeth taunted loudly after him. "Not in the holiday spirit, Piper?"

"I hate Halloween." He sat on the floor to pull on a boot.

"Superstitious?" Macbeth applied black lipstick.

"Why do you's care, sicko? Just keep makin' yourself up and leave me the hell alone!"

Macbeth cocked his head, admiring his face for a moment. "Bad memories? Let me guess. Bigger, smarter kids always stole your candy growing up, didn't they? Pathetic little leech, weren't you?"

"HEY!" Piper chucked an empty soda can at him, which smacked harmlessly against the doorframe. "You's got some nerve callin' _me_ a leech when you've been livin' in _my_ room for months! 'Sides, I'd bet the pot that you's ain't celebrated a Halloween in your life, seeing as your whole childhood was spent in that tower."

Macbeth paused, his eyes darkening slightly.

Piper noticed the change, and scrunched his face up in guilt. He finished the shoelace he was working on, then sighed. "Look, I… Maybe that was too far. Just… Damn. You's know that kiddo of mine? The one I ain't met cuz my broad ran for the hills when I was an alcoholic? Only thing I knows about that kiddo, is that they was born on Halloween. Don't even know if it's a girl or guy, only ever found out when she had 'em." He sighed, heavier this time. "So's… it's a sore spot for me, and I'd really like a keg right about nows, but I'm not breakin' sobriety, even if this party gets out of hand."

"Hm." Macbeth finished putting thick eyeliner around his eyes. "Maybe you should just think about having fun tonight, Piper, instead of thinking about the past."

Piper stared across the room at his roommate, totally dumbfounded. "What the… Are you's…?" He couldn't even finish the sentence, he was so flabbergasted.

"I know _I'm_ going to have fun…" Macbeth continued, voice drawling mischievously. "Mm, what do you think she'll wear…? Something skimpy, I'm sure."

"GODDAMMIT MAC! I shoulda known you's was just looking for a opportunity to rile me up!" Piper stood up and stormed for the door. "I swear to god, if you's try to bring her back to _my_ room tonight, I'm gonna shove a handful of sharpened poker chips down your throat!"

Macbeth's response was a low purr.

"GAH! I mean it! I'm leavin' town! I can't take it anymore!"

Piper slammed the door hard behind him.

* * *

"Are you girls ready?~" Mirajane stood in the apartment living room, a grin on her face. "I can't wait to see what everyone dressed up as!"

Feet scampered down the hall.

"Auntie Mira, how do I look?!" Syllestra ran into the room, then stood proudly in front of Mira, hands on her hips. She was wearing a red wig, and a suit of armor made from foam, painted gray. In her hand was a foam sword.

"Wow, Syllest! You look more like Erza than Erza does!"

"Really?!" Syllest beamed brightly, despite the complete lack of logic in the statement. "Do you think I'm scary enough?!"

"Oh, definitely!" Mira giggled, and pat her on the head. "They picked the right girl to run the Haunted House this year!"

"Yeah! I hope I make someone cry!" She waved the sword wildly in the air, accidentally hitting the fan blades in the process.

"Dreamer!" Mira sang. "We're waiting on you~"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" Dreamer came out of the bathroom a few moments later, still fixing a ribbon to her hair. "Do I… look okay?"

She was dressed as a fairy. Glittery wings, curled extensions in her hair, a green dress with a tutu made from leaves and feathers. And, as her interpretation dictated, a fluffy tail.

"Fairies _do_ have tails!" Syllest giggled, as she ran in circles around her.

"You're so cute, Dreamer!" Mira nodded in approval. "You even put on real makeup!"

Dreamer deadpanned. "So, you're saying the makeup I usually wear isn't real?"

"You usually only wear eyeliner, silly! I never see you go all out like this." She smiled warmly at her friend. "I just think you're beautiful, is all."

Dreamer's face softened. She smiled back. "Thank you, Mira. What about you? Where's your costume?"

"Right here!" She bent over to pick a head up from the floor. She put her head inside of it and curtsied. "Tada!"

Dreamer and Syllest both paled slightly, sweat beading on their foreheads.

"Ah… That's…"

"Auntie Mira, why are you dressing up as an ugly old trash bag?"

There was a sniffle from somewhere inside the mask. "It's not a trash bag! It's Master!"

Dreamer narrowed her eyes and re-examined the headpiece. Syllest was right, it looked like a wrinkly white trash bag. She supposed the tufts of fur… or feathers?... might have represented hair. And it looked like two buttons had been glued on to make asymmetrical eyes…

"Master?" Syllest turned around and bent over, so she could take a second look at Mira from upside down, between her legs. "Are you sure, because—"

"It looks just like him!" Dreamer smacked her hand over Syllest's mouth. "I'm so proud of you for making your own costume this year, Mira!"

"Thank you, Dreamer!" came the muffled response.

"Mom!" Syllest smacked her hand away. "Come on! I want to find Romeo! And I want candy!"

Dreamer nodded. "Ready Mira? Let's go see this party!"

When the girls arrived, the party was already in full swing. The guild hall was packed with members. Countless people in all varieties of costumes, gathered around the punch bowl, bobbing for apples, getting ready for the dunk tank, or carving pumpkins. Only moments after walking in, Romeo pushed his way through the crowd to the girls.

"Syllest! Finally!"

The little boy had temporary pink dye in his hair, a scarf made from newspaper scraps, and a plastic fireball in his hand.

"Romeo! You look just like Natsu!" Syllest squealed with delight.

"And you look like Erza!"

"We're so cool!"

"Scary cool!"

"We're gonna scare everyone!"

"Yeah, but…" Romeo snatched her hand. "You're late! We can't scare anybody if we don't go to the haunted house!"

"Bye, Mom!" Syllest waved over her shoulder before she was dragged completely out of sight.

"So cute," Mira giggled. "I have to go get ready for the costume contest! I'm going to be a judge! What are you going to do, Dreamer?"

Her cream-haired companion blinked, eyelashes fluttering slightly. She scanned the room for a moment. "Oh, I… I'm sure I'll find something to—"

"Looking for something, Dream?"

The all-too familiar drawl crept over her shoulder, sending chills to the base of her spine. She swallowed nervously before turning to face him. "Macbeth, I… Oh."

The words caught in her throat at the sight of him. Macbeth, in tight black clothes, sporting kitty ears, whiskers, a collar, and tail. And somehow, his makeup was considerably more seductive than usual. Maybe it was the enviable wings of his eyeliner…

"What's wrong, sweet Dream?" He cocked his head, eyes gleaming. "Cat got your tongue?"

She swallowed dryly at this comment.

"Have fun, you two." Mira gave Dreamer a long-lashed wink before making her way to the stage.

"M-Macbeth, I…" she scrambled to look… well to look like anything besides a flustered teenager. "I didn't expect you to dress up, honestly. I was expecting a 'is this what fairies really do for entertainment?' rant."

His smirk was never faltering, as those invasive red eyes blatantly scanned her from head to toe. "You have so little faith in me, Dream. Maybe I like Halloween."

She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. "Or maybe you just like to tease me."

"Maybe…" he stepped close to her, and lowered his lips until they touched her hair. "…it's a little bit of both."

Heat rushed to her cheeks, simultaneous with the warm tingling she suddenly felt in her abdomen. Her lips parted, instinctively, even though he'd made no motions to kiss her. She'd almost completely forgotten that the two of them were in the center of a very public and crowded party. It seemed like Macbeth had forgotten too, by the way his fingertips brushed slowly up her exposed back.

They might have continued in this dangerous fashion, if Dreamer didn't suddenly catch sight of powder-blue hair out of the corner of her eye.

"Piper!" She said suddenly.

Macbeth groaned, as if the name was an instant mood-killer.

The gambling wizard was stationed nearby, next to a table lined with treats and a punch bowl. Spider web tablecloth covered the table. Chocolate cupcakes dripped red jelly, and were adorned with severed sugar fingers. The red punch bubbled and frothed in a cauldron, with plastic eyeballs bobbing on the surface.

Piper glanced up when he heard his name. He smiled at Dreamer, saw Macbeth behind her, and rolled his eyes, quite dramatically.

"Sorry, Macbeth, I have to say hello," Dreamer said, leaving him pouting behind her as she approached the table.

"Yo, Dreamy." He tugged on the black beanie he was wearing, covering up a bit more of the long side of his hair. "You's look nice. Can't say the same 'bout your choice of company, though." A glare at Macbeth, returned with a crude gesture.

"You didn't dress up," she commented.

"Never do, doll." He gave a wry smile.

"Are you okay?" She asked, with a knowing frown. "Thinking about her?"

"Who?"

"Your daughter."

Piper raised an eyebrow. "How's you know my kiddo's a girl, Dreamy? Could be a good-lookin' guy, like me."

"I just have a feeling." She smiled gently at him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He nodded, returning the smile. "I'm good, doll."

"Why are you standing over here by yourself?"

He scowled and eyed the bubbly punch. "Cuz' I'm in charge of refilling that bad boy when it gets too low."

She blinked, uncomprehending. "Why you?" It seemed a little unfair to leave Piper in charge of the non-alcoholic beverage section.

"I don't know, doll, 'cuz chikadee's got a sick sense of humor? Jus' lemme do my job. I gotsta make sure no one spikes the damn punch bowl." He was looking at it like he'd like to be the one to spike it.

Dreamer giggled. "Okay, well, I'm going to look around with Macbeth. Have fun!"

"Yeah, yeah." Piper rolled his eyes. "Just scream if that asshole gives you any trouble. And don't goes into any dark places with 'im, you gots it? He's extra satanic today."

Her cheeks colored slightly, as if "extra satanic" was just how she liked him.

"Ugh, I'm gonna puke…" Piper gagged, and looked away from her.

"Sorry!" Dreamer said, unapologetically, before skipping back to Macbeth's side.

Piper watched them walk away for a moment, noting passively how the sadist's hand dropped low on her waist, and he flashed Piper the middle finger without even glancing back.

"Kinda wish the Council would send someone to arrest that bastard…" he grumbled, before crossing his arms over his chest and staring furiously at the punch bowl.

"Hey, Pipe. I knew I'd find you here." A new voice called out to him. Cana came up from behind, then leaned on the table. She, like Piper, had decided against wearing a costume. Though her bra was festively black with a silver skull and crossbones over her right breast, not that he was staring.

"'Sup, babe?" He grinned.

"Oh, nothing much." She opened the fuzzy satchel she wore, and extracted a bottle full of clear liquid.

"WHOA, babe, what the hell you think you're doin?'" He snatched her wrist when she popped the cap off the bottle and went to hold it over the punch bowl.

"Don't be a baby," she snapped at him. "It's a party. _Someone's_ got to do it."

"Not happenin,' doll." He put himself between her and the punch bowl. "I ain't lettin' you spike the punch."

"Tch. Since when did you turn all goody-two-shoes, Piper?" She narrowed her eyes accusingly at him. "Come on, it'll be hilarious."

"No way." He shook his head. "There's kids here, Cana."

"So?" she didn't drop her fierce gaze. "You're the Punch Protector, right? Don't let them drink any."

"Babe, you're pushin' your luck." He stared right back. "Don't make me call for Master."

"You wouldn't." She drew her face closer to his.

"Would so," he said, drawing his face closer too.

"No balls." She bared her teeth.

"I gots balls, baby." He countered.

Suddenly, her demeanor changed. Her eyebrows raised, and her amethyst eyes flickered back and forth between his. Her lips parted, ever so slightly, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

Piper blinked, taken unawares by the change. His adam's apple bobbed when she leaned forward, suddenly pressing her body against his. He stumbled back, slightly, nearly knocking the cauldron of punch over.

"C-Cana?" His cheeks were bright red, eyes locked on the seductive look in hers. "B-Babe, you's a'right?"

"Piper, you're…" She put her arms around him, pressing her scantily clad chest harder against his.

"I-I'm what, doll?" Steam might as well have been rising from his skin.

"You're…" She drew her face closer and closer, until her breath tickled his goatee. "Such a _sucker_!"

She laughed out loud, while she victoriously poured the contents of the bottle into the punch, with her arms around his back.

"WHAT THE—" Piper shoved her off, and spun around, but it was too late. "That was a cruel trick, doll! Using me like that! I ain't some tool, you's know?!" He was now red from embarrassment.

Cana was doubled over, laughing at the top of her lungs. "Oh my god, that was way too easy! Did you think I was going to kiss you?!"

"H-Hey, lower your voice, babe! You're makin' me look bad!"

"Move," she straightened up, then pushed him aside. She picked up the ladle in the bowl and drew it straight to her lips. She tasted the concoction, and smacked her lips together as she thought. "Taste this and tell me if it's obvious." She held the ladle to Piper's lips.

"Um. No." He pushed her arm aside. "What part of 'sober,' don't you's get, babe?"

"What's sober?" she said, cheekily.

"Guess you's wouldn't know anyt'ing about that, would you's?" Piper gave a harassed sigh.

"I need someone to taste this." She scanned the crowd. "Hey!" She shouted at two figures passing by. "Come here! Yeah, you two! The ghosts!"

The ghosts walked over, slowly, as if uncertain.

"Who's under there?" Cana asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Uh…" the ghosts looked at one another.

"We're… um…"

"Babe, ain't it obvious?" Piper rolled his eyes. "It's Jet and Droy."

The ghosts shared a look, then nodded vigorously.

"Yes, that is correct."

"We're totally Jet and Droy."

Piper nodded smugly. "Told you's."

"Whatever, I don't care." Cana dipped the ladle in the punch and then shoved it in one of the ghost's faces. "Taste this."

"Ah, but I…"

She grabbed his head and tilted it back, before pouring punch on the sheet, over his mouth, thus staining the white sheet with streaks of red. The poor ghost gurgled for breath under the suffocating sheet and spiked punch.

"Babe, don't kill 'im!"

"Well?" Cana stepped back and looked expectantly at him. "How is it? Does it taste like alcohol?"

"…No?"

"Hehe, nice." Cana grinned deviously. "My work here is done."

"Pardon me," the other ghost said, as he patted punch off his partner's chest with a napkin. "Have you seen Midnight or Cobra anywhere?"

"You's mean Mac and Erik?" Piper asked.

"Yes."

"Yeah, I seen Mac, a'right." Piper scoffed, bitterly. "He's wearin' cat ears and totin' around a cute number in a fairy costume. They went that way."

"You have my sincerest thanks." The ghost nodded, then dragged his stained partner away.

Cana watched them go for a moment. "Hey, Pipe?"

"'Sup?"

"Was there something weird about Jet and Droy?"

"Huh? Why's you ask?"

"Eh. It's probably nothing." She waved it off. "See you later."

"W-Wait, doll! You're just gonna leave me hangin' here?"

She walked a few steps, then paused and looked back at him. Her expression was mischievous. "Why don't you come find me later? After you refill the punch bowl. We can play a one v. one card game in the basement. Just the two of us." A wink.

This time, Piper _did_ knock over the punch bowl, and Cana pranced off with an evil cackle.

* * *

A large, clear tote sat on the ground, surrounded by pumpkins and hay. In it, were about two dozen red apples, floating in water. Two men were braced on either side of the tote, sparks flying between their eyes as they awaited the word to begin.

"Betcha I get at least ten more apples than you, ya pervy stripper," Natsu said. He was wearing horns, wings, and a tail, obviously depicting a dragon. But he was also wearing a headband and a belt full of kunai. A… ninja dragon?

"Oh yeah? We'll see, flame-brains." Gray snapped back. He was in a cliché vampire costume. A simple cape and plastic fangs.

"You can do it, my sweet darling Gray!" Juvia cheered from the sidelines. She, after learning that Gray would be attending the party as a vampire, had decided to go as a "vampire victim." This meant that she wore a tiny halter top and skirt, and had painted vampire bite marks all over her entire body. She proudly proclaimed that these were "love bites" to anyone who asked.

"Alright," Max tapped on his watch. "Time starts… NOW!"

Gray and Natsu plunged their heads into the tote. They lifted them out instantly, when Natsu's horns smashed into Gray's skull.

"Ow, take those off, dude!"

"No way! I'm not the stripper here!"

"Gray, darling. You lost your cape again."

"Whatever, let's just do this!" Gray stuck his face back in the water. Natsu did the same.

With the speed and ferocity of a herd of wild horses, the two of them bit apples and threw them violently out of the tote. The apples weren't even landing in the corresponding baskets to be counted. Instead, they were flinging in all directions, splattering applesauce on the passersby.

Juvia watched in awe. "Oh, the way he sinks his teeth into those apples! What I wouldn't give to be the water in that tote right now, feeling my beloved lips~" She noticed that Natsu seemed to be chucking the apples slightly faster than his opponent. "Oh no! I can't let my sweet Gray lose!" She held her hands out and manipulated the water, purposely pushing the remaining apples toward Gray, and away from Natsu.

"Hey, what the heck?!" Natsu pulled his head up, flinging water everywhere. "That's cheating, iceboy! Tell your girlfriend to stop rigging the game!"

Gray lifted his head and bared his fangs at Natsu. "First of all, she's not my girlfriend! And second of all, what are you afraid you're gonna lose, Natsu?"

Juvia was already bawling at the "not my girlfriend comment."

Flames gathered around Natsu. "No way! You can cheat all you want, I'm still gonna kick your butt into next week!"

"That so?! Bring it on!"

The men abandoned bobbing for apples. They opted instead for picking the apples out of the water and chucking them at each other, full force. People screeched and ducked to avoid the battle.

"Can't they go one night without trying to kill each other?" Someone in a panda costume yelled.

"Those two? Never!" An alligator answered.

Two ghosts were slinking against the wall nearby.

"Look," the ghost wearing glasses whispered to his comrade. "I see Cobra over there, near the pumpkins."

"I see him too," the punch-stained ghost replied. "If we can get him alone—"

"Do not forget his hearing."

"I don't think he's paying much attention. Do you have the dog-whistle?"

"Yes. This will render his ears useless. Then, we lure him into the hall, and—" Before the ghost could finish talking, he was suddenly pelted with a flaming apple. The apple splattered, and his white sheet caught fire.

"Crap, sorry!" Gray shouted. "Good going, Natsu, you almost killed Droy!"

"Help! He's on fire!"

"I got this, buddy!" Natsu picked up the tote of apples and flung the entire thing at the ghosts, who were instantly drenched. The plastic tote bounced off the punch-stained ghost's head.

"Oops." Natsu gave a sheepish smile.

"Can you _be_ any more stupid?!" Gray said.

"Shut up, ya frozen vampire!"

"What are you supposed to be, anyway? A lizard who crawled through someone's closet?"

"I'M. A. NINJA. DRAGON!"

The now shivering, wet, punch-stained ghosts crept away from the chaos, as fists began to fly…

* * *

A table was set up near the west windows, with pumpkins of various shapes and sizes, and an assortment of carving tools. The only people currently at the pumpkin carving station, were Erik and Kinana.

Erik was wearing a green costume, with a bow strapped to his back, and a blond wig. His pointed ears stuck out from the strands of blond hair.

Kinana had decided to be true to her previous name, and was dressed as a purple snake.

The couple sat opposite one another at the table, each carving their own pumpkin.

"Are you having fun, Erik?" Kina asked with a glance up from her art.

"Eh. Out of the parties you people have all the time, this is one of the more bearable ones." He frowned at his pumpkin.

"I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself." She smiled brightly. "Um… Erik? Did we celebrate Halloween before… Nirvana?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Brain taught us that stuff like this was pointless. Can you really picture the Seis celebrating any holiday?" He paused with the knife in his hand. "Come to think of it, we did sometimes exchange presents on Christmas. Secretly. Small stuff, though, so he wouldn't notice. He caught Midnight opening up a book Hoteye got him one year, and locked him in…" He got a faraway look. "Anyway. That doesn't matter anymore."

"I'm sorry." Kinana looked awkwardly at her lap. "I was just wondering."

"I have to say, it's pretty neat to be creating all these new memories and traditions with you and Macbeth, though. Kind of wish the others were here to have a piece of all these fuzzy feelings." He smiled.

"That would be nice." She giggled quietly. "Oh, are you planning on spending time with Macbeth tonight?" He hadn't made any effort to leave her side since they showed up at the party.

"No way," he scoffed. "Have you _seen_ him?"

"Mhm!" she nodded vigorously. "I saw him with Dreamer! I think it's so great that he dressed up!"

"I think I could have lived my entire life without ever seeing Midnight in clothes that tight." He made a sour face.

"Don't you think it's sweet though?"

"There's nothing sweet about Midnight's thoughts right now, trust me." He cringed, slightly. "I really wish the guy would think quietly."

She giggled again, then sat her carving blade down. "How did your jack-o-lantern turn out?"

Erik leaned back and looked at the pumpkin. His ears took a red tinge. "How's yours?" he asked, dodging the question.

She grinned, then turned her jack-o-lantern so he could see. She had carved a bouquet of elegant flowers, three-dimensional in appearance. Erik's ears turned even redder at the sight of this.

"Let's do something else," he said suddenly.

"Wait, but I want to see what you made!"

"No, it's boring. Let's go." He stood up. Kinana reached for the pumpkin, but Erik snatched it out of her reach.

"What's wrong?" She stood up, too.

"Nothing, I just think this is stupid."

In reality, while Kinana had crafted a beautiful and intricate jack-o-lantern, Erik had succeeded in… well, "succeeded" wasn't the right word. Rather, he had utterly failed to create even a simple jack-o-lantern face. There were two triangle eyes of different sizes, not lined up correctly, and a wrong-side-up triangle nose that was accidentally connected to a crooked mouth.

"Erik, don't be silly! You worked hard on that! Let me see!"

Behind Erik, two ghosts were creeping up.

"Ready?" One whispered.

"Yes." The other held a whistle to his lips, under the sheet.

"No, Kina. Maybe I _will_ find Macbeth. Let's go." He tried to side-step, but she leaned across the table for him. In a panic to stop her from seeing his horrible creation, he turned, and threw the pumpkin behind him.

At precisely the same time, Lahar put his lips around the whistle, inhaled deeply, and… was smashed in the face by an atrocious jack-o-lantern.

"Oh no!" Kinana put her hands over her mouth in horror.

The pumpkin had lodged the dog-whistle in Lahar's throat, and now the ghost was choking.

The second ghost put his arms around the first, then yanked on his stomach, trying to force him to spit out the whistle.

Erik narrowed his eyes at the two of them. He opened his mouth to speak, when Lahar suddenly coughed up the whistle. In doing so, the whistle shrieked, and Erik cried out in pain.

"Erik! Are you okay?" Kina ran to his side.

"Come on!" Doranbolt said, urgently. "We need to get out of here!" He pulled his partner away.

"Gah, my head…" Erik held his hands over his ears, teeth gritted in pain.

"Come with me, we'll go somewhere quiet." She let him use her as a crutch, as she led him away from the party.

"Dammit!" Lahar said hoarsely, after catching his breath around the corner. "We let him get away!"

"Forget about that, you almost choked! Are you okay?"

"I am fine." Lahar cleared his throat. "We must not give up yet."

* * *

"This is really good punch!" Dreamer commented, while she and Macbeth moved on to the next area. A server had been passing out cups of the stuff, and she was on her third. "Where are we going now?"

"If you're done socializing," Macbeth started, a smirk playing on his lips, "then I have just the thing." He led the way, black tail swishing with every step. Dreamer tried very hard not to admire him from this angle, but… she was feeling a bit bolder than usual. Maybe it was the festive spirit? It certainly couldn't be the third cup of fruity, non-alcoholic punch.

Ahead of them was a line of people, waiting in front of a dunk tank. Every few minutes, the first person in line would throw a ball at a target, and a poor victim would drop into the water. Dreamer dug her heels into the ground as soon as she realized where he was taking her. Macbeth faced her, then gave her hands a tug.

"What's wrong, Dream?"

"I'm not letting you dunk me, Macbeth," she said, matter-of-factly.

He smirked wider. She noted that he was in an incredibly good mood today. Or, as Piper had called it: "extra satanic."

"Please, Dream?" He tugged her closer, then tilted her chin up with his fingertips. "I'm dying of curiosity."

"Curiosity?" She was lost in swirling red.

"Mm, yes." He dragged his tongue slowly along his lips. "I'm dying to know what a wet fairy looks like."

Dreamer squeaked in flustered astonishment. "Mac _beth_!" She chastised, her whole face bright pink. "Y-You can't say something like t-that!"

"But you like it when I torment you, don't you, little fairy?" He stroked her cheek with his thumb, his expression positively devious.

"I… don't—"

"Hey, D!" A familiar voice called out to her. "Over here!"

Dreamer was successfully rescued by Levy, who was shouting from near the front of the line. Dreamer scampered out of Macbeth's reach all too quickly, electricity still sparking on her skin from his comment.

"Hi, Levy!"

Macbeth followed shortly after, his hands on his hips. His eyes lit up at the sight of the hulking man next to Levy. "Ah, there you are, Gajee."

Gajeel was dressed as a police-officer, handcuffs and a baton hanging from his belt. Levy complemented him perfectly, as a prisoner dressed in stripes.

"Beth!" Gajeel yanked Macbeth unceremoniously into a crushing embrace. "I ain't seen ya all day!" He gave a fang-toothed grin. "So, you decided to be a pussy-cat after all. I didn't think you'd have the guts."

"Shut up," Macbeth warned, with an embarrassed glance at Dreamer next to him. He looked at Levy, and his smirk returned. "My, you two coordinated your costumes perfectly, didn't you?"

Gajeel and Levy looked at each other, wide-eyed. Their cheeks flashed red, and they turned away, crossing their arms at exactly the same time.

"N-No way! Me and short-stuff dressed like this by coincidence, that's all!"

"Yeah, he's right…" Levy awkwardly scratched the back of her hair.

Dreamer giggled quietly at their antics. She could feel the _frustration_ , and the _attraction_ , thick in the air around them.

"Are you going to dunk her, Gajeel?" Macbeth asked.

"Heh, that's right. I had Pantherlily put her name on the sheet." He puffed his chest out proudly, nearly popping a button off the police-shirt he wore.

"You're going to _let_ him dunk you?!" Dreamer looked at Levy in horror. Levy gave an awkward laugh.

"I agreed to it," she said, "on the condition that I get to dunk him afterward."

"If you can even hit the target, small-fry." Gajeel teased.

"Hmph. I'll show you, Gajeel! You can't always make fun of me."

"Dream." Macbeth was staring at her again.

"NO!" She put her hands on her hips and scowled angrily at him. "Just because they're doing it does _not_ mean I'm going to let you dunk me! And don't you dare look at me like that, Macbeth! I'm not falling for it! If I fell in that water, my costume would be ruined! All the glitter would fall off, the wings would probably tear, my hair would be messed up, and I'd cry—do you want me to cry, because I feel like that would put a damper on your mood right now, wouldn't it? And you only want to do it because you're being a weird pervert tonight and you want to see me all wet, and that's… that's, you know, not okay! Stop pouting! No, don't even open your mouth, I'm not making any deals, and I'm not going to let you blackmail me!"

"Ha, she's got him figured out, doesn't she?" Gajeel nudged Levy with his elbow.

Levy was pouting slightly, too. "I shouldn't have let you make deals with me, either…"

"Levy Mcgarden!" The man running the dunk tank called. "You're up."

A sweat drop formed on her forehead. "Okay!"

"Gihi, this is gonna be great…" Gajeel stood at the front of the line, and rolled up his sleeves.

On her way to the stairs, Levy stopped. "Hm?" She saw two ghosts approaching Macbeth and Dreamer. "Oh! Jet, Droy! There you are! I was looking for you!"

The ghosts stopped in their tracks.

"Did you decide against wearing the frog costumes? That's funny, I thought you were really excited about those costumes."

The ghosts exchanged a look.

"Miss Levy," the operator waved his hand to get her attention. "Sit on the bench, please."

"Okay…" She looked nervously at the tank. "Well, have fun you guys!" She waved at the ghosts. They waved back.

Lahar looked back to where Macbeth and Dreamer had been standing. They had vanished.

"They were just here!" Doranbolt cursed.

"Over there, look." Lahar pointed. "I believe Dos Equis stormed off, and Midnight chased after her."

"You mean Dreamly?"

"Yes, of course."

Gajeel picked up a ball and cranked his arm back to throw. "Get ready, shorty!" He threw…

The ball overshot the target by a good ten feet. Levy laughed inside of the tank.

"Hey! It ain't funny! Give me another ball!" Gajeel yanked the bucket out of the man's hands. He threw a second ball. This one was too low, and bounced harmlessly off the glass.

"Aw, Gajeel, you're so sweet!" Levy smiled brightly at him. "You're purposely missing so that I don't get wet, aren't you?"

"What?! No way in hell! I'm just… My shoulder hurts, alright? I'll get it this time!" He stepped three feet back and worked up for another pitch.

He threw as hard as he could. The ball missed the target by only a few centimeters. Instead, it hit the corner of the tank, causing it to shoot at an angle away from the tank, with bullet-like speed… right into the back of Doranbolt's head.

The force of the throw knocked the ghost to the ground, where a server carrying a bowl of candy tripped on him, spilling candy everywhere, and taking Lahar to the ground with her.

"No!" Lahar struggled against Doranbolt, the candy, the server, and his sheet, to try and keep track of Macbeth. It was already too late. By the time the two of them were standing, they'd completely lost sight of the black cat ears.

"How did I miss all of those shots?!" Gajeel was shouting. "Give me one more try, man!"

"Sorry, sir. It's her turn."

Gajeel fumed, then took Levy's place in the tank. "This game is rigged, I'm tellin' ya." He crossed his arms. "I ain't worried. If I couldn't even hit the target once, then there's no way in hell that she'll—"

He was cut off by the sound of the target being hit, and the corresponding dunk into cold water.

"I did it! First try!" Levy jumped up and down.

The two ghosts helped each other break away from the crowd, nursing multiple injuries at this point in the night.

"What the hell are we doing, Lahar?" Doranbolt nursed a bump on the back of his head. "Why can't we just use magic and get this over with?"

"We are trying not to alert the entire guild of our plans," Lahar explained, as he wiped his glasses on the sheet. "If we can extract them without gathering attention, our job will be done."

Doranbolt groaned. "Fine, whatever. But I can't take much more of this."

"Where do you believe they went?" Lahar scanned the crowd, trying to see either cat ears or fairy wings amongst the array of costumes.

"I don't see them anywhere," Doranbolt replied. He gestured toward a door to the right. "That's the haunted house. They could have gone in there to be somewhere private."

"Then let us investigate."

* * *

In a side corridor from the main hall, a haunted house had been set up. Dividers with black curtains made a maze out of usually recognizable passageways. There were flickering black lights, fog, eerie music which was just a collection of horrific sounds, like screaming and nails on chalkboard. Several guild members patrolled the halls, dressed as a variety of frightening characters. There appeared to be no consistent theme, considering the first hall was filled with zombies, and the second had a hospital patient, an alien, and a gorilla.

The end of the house was guarded by none other than Syllest and Romeo, or miniature Erza and Natsu. If a guild member managed to make it all the way to the end without screaming, there was a table stacked with some of Macbeth's pastry creations for the taking. Strawberry filled vanilla eyeballs with avocado ooze.

The ghosts entered the haunted hallway.

"It's too disorienting in here," Doranbolt commented. "We'll never be able to recognize him."

"This is, however, the ideal place for taking him out. It would be some time before his absence was noted." Lahar said, nodding approvingly at a flickering light.

"Then, let's check to see if Midnight or Cobra is here, and if they're not, we'll wait behind one of the curtains for one of them to come by."

"Alright."

They walked forward, easily dodging zombies, then avoiding hospital patients. They sidestepped Elfman in the gorilla costume, then had only about thirty feet to go before the final challenge. Lahar held up a hand, however, signaling that they should stop. Ten feet ahead was another figure. A brave soul whom had traversed the halls of the haunted house all alone.

"Hm." Erza prodded an animatronic skeleton dog with her foot. "The quality of this haunted house is mediocre, at best. The acting is believable, but the props lack inspiration! I knew I should have insisted upon heading this operation…"

The redhead was wearing a skin-tight bunny costume, which did not detract from her overall terrifying appearance in the least.

"Stay back," Lahar whispered. "If Erza Scarlet catches on to us, this entire mission is ruined."

Doranbolt gulped. He had a point. Dealing with Erza was the last thing they needed.

"It seems I've conquered this haunted house quest," she continued, as she strode forward. "And my prize awaits me." She eyed the eyes on the table up ahead. Her face lit up. "Could those be… some of Macbeth's strawberry confections? Oh, blessed day!" She bounded forward. "I know I'm only supposed to take one, but surely no one would notice if I took two or three or maybe even ten, after all, it's not often Macbeth creates something new for his devoted dessert fans!"

She was less than five feet from the table, drooling at the sight of the strawberry filling in the cakes. She reached forward with trembling hands, when…

"BOO!" Syllestra leapt out from under the table, valiantly pointing her sword at Erza's chest. At the same time, Romeo tossed plastic fireballs at her, which bounced off her armor.

Syllest suddenly realized that she was facing the real Erza. Her pink eyes went wide with awe. She gasped, and stepped backward, knocking into the table of treats. She regained composure quickly, though, determination shining in her eyes.

"You shall not pass!" She yelled, in her best Erza impression.

Erza's eyes opened slowly. Her lips parted in horror. She stumbled backward.

Syllest blinked, hardly believing her eyes. "Yeah! That's right! Run away!" She yelled. She took a step toward Erza, who gasped. Syllestra gave a war cry, while jumping up and down. This was the breaking point. Erza cried out, then turned on her heels and ran, nearly sobbing.

Lahar and Doranbolt froze, unable to register what was happening in time. They grunted in pain as Erza barreled through them, literally trampling them under her feet on her way out.

"Damn…" Doranbolt groaned as he writhed on the ground in pain. "I think I have a broken rib."

"What on earth happened?" Lahar coughed.

"Syllest! Did you _see_ that?!" Romeo grabbed Syllestra's hands and looked at her with wide eyes. "We scared _Erza_!"

"R-Romeo!" Syllest wrapped her arms around him and started to cry. "This is the bestest day of my entire life!"

The two children jumped and hugged and spun on the pile of eyeball cakes that Syllest had knocked off the table only moments ago.

At the entrance to the haunted house, Erza burst through the door, pushing over a couple who were in line to go in. She grabbed her bunny ears in both hands, dramatically, the horror still evident on her pale face.

"Erza?" Kinana and Erik were walking by. Kina reached out with concern. "Are you okay?"

"The… cakes…" Trauma was etched on her features. "All of them… on the ground… And she jumped on them, and the strawberries were everywhere…" She ran in the opposite direction, sobbing.

"Did that make any sense to you?" Kinana asked, with a sweat drop.

"Nothing any of you fairies do ever makes sense to me," Erik scoffed in response.

"Hey, you're one of us too, now." She teasingly punched his shoulder. "So, don't be mean!"

"Sorry." He smiled, then put an arm around Kina's shoulders. She inhaled sharply, her cheeks taking color. "Old habit." His arm remained around her as they walked on.

Two trampled, wet, punch-stained, bruised, burned ghosts emerged from the haunted house moments later, heaving for breath, and hunched over in pain.

"Let's just call it off," Doranbolt said.

"No. I refuse to give up so easily! Come, we are sure to capture them at the final event."

"Final event?" Doranbolt limped to catch up.

* * *

The guild hall stage had been turned into a catwalk. At the end of it, Makarov stood with his arms outstretched, ready to address the guild. He was dressed as a Christmas elf, complete with pointed shoes, ears, and a candy-striped hat.

The little master projected his voice so everyone could hear. "Gather around, children! We are about to begin Fairy Tail's fifth annual Halloween Costume Contest!" People began to gather from around the room, abandoning the line at the dunk tank, and stumbling away from the punch bowl. "Your judges this year will be myself: the loveable elf who'll sit on your shelf!" His eyes twinkled. "Miss Mirajane Strauss," he gestured toward the judging panel, where Mira stood up and waved. The crowd gasped in horror at the sight of her garbage bag head. "And—"

"Happy!" The little blue exceed announced himself. He leaped into the air, wearing a hotdog bun as a costume. "I'm a hotdog!"

"You're a cat, silly," Mira giggled.

"With no further ado," Makarov hopped off the stage, "let's begin!"

"Our first contestants are…" Mira read off a list, "Wendy and Carla!"

The spotlights came on, music started to play. Wendy emerged from the curtain, blushing slightly. She was dressed up in white and pink with a bonnet and a staff, as little Bo Peep. Carla followed shortly after, in a wool coat with a pink bow around her neck, as Bo Peep's sheep.

"Awwwwwww," the crowd cooed.

The two girls strutted to the end of the stage. Wendy did a twirl. Carla bowed low. Then they turned and walked back through the curtain.

The crowd cheered. The judges conversed before holding up three signs.

Makarov: "8"

Mirajane: "7"

Happy: "7.2"

In the crowd, Dreamer was making her way toward the catwalk. "Excuse me," she apologized as she carefully squeezed past people. Her companion was less friendly about it.

"Get out of our way," Macbeth hissed threateningly at anyone who came close.

Finally, the couple stood on the west side, next to the catwalk. Dreamer clasped her hands together in excitement.

"Tell me again why we're here," Macbeth mumbled behind her.

"We have to watch the contest!" she answered cheerily.

"Why?" his tone was disapproving. "Aren't there better things we could be doing right now?" This was said with the slightest edge of a drawl, as his gaze drifted below her exposed back.

"Because Pops is competing!" she said. "His costumes are always the best!"

Macbeth huffed in annoyance, but took the opportunity to stand uncomfortably close to Dreamer, his chest against her back, lips near her ear. "Why aren't you competing, Dream?"

"M-Me?" She blushed, trembling slightly at his breath on her ear. "This isn't really my thing. Lucy, sure, but not me. I don't like all the eyes…"

"Hmm…" he flicked her wings, which were preventing him from pulling her flush against him. "Would you model for one set of eyes, then?" His voice just above a whisper. "You could strut just for me, little fairy…"

Dreamer shivered. "S-Stop that! What's up with you tonight?" She swallowed nervously, resisting the urge to tilt her head and give him more access to her throat. "B-Besides, you're the cat! Doesn't the catwalk suit _you_ better?"

"Oh, so you want me to pose for you, Dream? I'm sure something can be arranged…" he nuzzled his face against her neck.

She sighed in pleasure, but before she could decide whether to elbow him in the ribs or turn around and kiss him, Makarov was announcing the next contestant.

"Next, we have Miss Lucy Heartfilia!"

The curtains were thrown open in dramatic fashion. Strutting out with her head held high and a grin on her face, came Lucy. She had somehow put together a sexy tarantula costume, complete with a tight, furry dress, and four spider legs on her back. Her cleavage was boosted exceptionally, and the dress was extra short, with furry boots to accompany it.

She walked with all the confidence of a peacock. At the end of the catwalk she posed, then posed again, then posed again, then winked and blew a kiss to the judges.

 _Hm! There's no way I can lose! Wendy was cute, but the audience wants sexy~ I was born for this._

The judges held up their votes.

Makarov: "4"

Mirajane: "6"

Happy: "Fish"

"WHAT?!" Lucy fumed in disbelief. "Are you three blind?! And Happy, you can't vote 'fish,' that doesn't even make sense!"

Happy was snickering with ninja dragon Natsu next to him.

"UGH! Whatever!" Lucy huffed, then stomped offstage.

On the opposite side from Macbeth and Dreamer, Erik and Kinana stood side-by-side, also watching the show. Erik's arm was still around her, now on her waist. Kinana was smiling contentedly, leaning against his arm.

He used his free arm to tug on one of his ears. "Damn."

"What's wrong? Does your head still hurt?"

"Yeah." He shook his head in frustration. "My hearing is screwed up. It's like… someone blew a dog whistle or something."

"Hm? But there aren't even any dogs here. Unless you count Happy."

This exchange was being watched by two ghosts, hiding in the shadows, ten feet away.

"Perfect, Doranbolt… We will split up. I will approach Cobra, you will circle around and capture Midnight."

"Alright. We've got 'em now."

The crowd continued to chatter. The judges conversed some more. Happy lifted up a megaphone. "Next is, Jezran Excalibur!"

Dreamer hopped on the toes of her shoes in excitement.

There was a pause for dramatic effect. Finally, the curtains parted and out walked Jezran.

The old man was in exactly the same suit and top hat he always wore. The only difference—literally the _only_ difference—was that he was sporting a pair of white gloves.

"Ooooh," the crowd murmured.

"Aaaah," they whispered.

"He's a butler!"

"How clever!"

"Wow!" Dreamer stared starry-eyed at the stage. "I think this is his best costume so far!"

Jezran walked to the end of the catwalk and bowed, tipping his hat.

The audience gave a standing ovation.

Makarov: "10"

Mirajane: "9.7"

Happy: "11 Fishes"

"Dear me, you have my thanks." Jezran twisted his mustache, then exited the stage.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" Lucy yelled from behind the curtain.

In the east side of the audience, Lahar crept forward. In his hand was a cloth dabbed in a sleeping potion. If he could just grab Erik fast enough…

"Oops," Kina frowned when one of her costume scales fell off her hat.

"I'll get it," Erik said.

"Oh, it's not that important—"

But the dragon-slayer was already crouching down to pick up the scale.

At the same time, Lahar lunged forward. He wasn't expecting Erik to crouch, so he tried to catch himself too late. He tripped on the edge of his white sheet, stumbled over Erik's crouched form, and landed face-first on the catwalk.

"What the hell was that?" Erik straightened up.

"Huh? I think Droy was trying to get onstage. He and Jet must be competing!"

While this was happening, on the other side of the audience, Macbeth was whispering in Dreamer's ear. Whatever he was saying had steam rising from her cheeks.

Behind the couple, Doranbolt was ready to spring.

"Come on," Macbeth whispered. "You know you want to."

"I…" Dreamer's lip trembled.

"You already saw Jezran's costume, so let's go already."

"Ah… okay." She nodded, shyly.

Macbeth's eyes widened in shock, right before his face broke out in a wide smirk. He grabbed Dreamer's wrist, then tugged her quickly away from the crowd toward a side door. He pulled her away so fast, that Doranbolt's leap missed its mark. The ghost jumped, and belly-flopped onstage.

"What's this?" Makarov stood on the table. "We have two more contestants?"

"Oh!" Mira clapped her hands together. "It's Jet and Droy!"

The two ghosts struggled to stand. Their sheets were in complete disrepair. One was covered in red punch that looked like blood. Water stains colored the cloth. Lahar's sheet had burn marks on it. They were both tattered, shredded in places, marked with dirt and footprints. They limped forward, groaning in pain.

The crowd gasped. Someone screamed.

Makarov: "10"

Mirajane: "9"

Happy, threw his sign in fear, and it smacked Doranbolt in the face.

"We need to get out of here," Lahar said. He gave a fake bow to the audience before leaping from the stage with Doranbolt.

"Midnight went that way!" Doranbolt pointed at the door, then they weaved through the crowd to get away.

Makarov climbed onto the stage, held his hands up, and addressed the audience. "Myself and the other judges have discussed, and we've chosen the winner of tonight's contest! It was a close call, especially with the entry of those ghouls, but we've ultimately decided that the title, along with the cash prize, will go to… Jezran Excalibur!"

Jezran and the other contestants walked out onstage. Black and orange confetti fluttered down while Makarov shook Jezran's gloved hand.

"Truly remarkable, old friend," Makarov said, tears gathering in his eyes. "Such workmanship and skill that went into this costume… I almost can't stand it. Here you go! Your jule reward!"

"Thank you, dear me. Thank you, thank you. Dear me, dear me." He bowed repeatedly, then accepted the wad of cash.

"What the heck?!" Lucy's fists were clenched. "Sure, give the billionaire the cash reward! That was supposed to be my rent money!" She sobbed into her hands.

"There, there, Lucy." Wendy patted her arm.

" _Do_ stop crying," Carla sassed, "it's quite unbefitting of a lady, you know."

"I'm not a lady, I'm a broke tenant!" She slid to the floor.

Meanwhile, Lahar and Doranbolt finally broke free from the crowd. They went through the side door, then looked left and right for any sign of their target. They ran to the end of the hall and turned the corner.

Macbeth and Dreamer had slinked away from the party to this secluded corridor to be alone, per Macbeth's persistent request. When the two ghosts rounded the corner, Macbeth had Dreamer pinned against the wall, assaulting her neck with passionate kisses. She squeaked in surprised horror when she saw they suddenly had an audience.

"Macbeth, stop!" She pushed him away, and quickly fixed her disheveled clothes.

"Mid—" Lahar was about to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

Macbeth had apparently had his attempts to be with Dreamer thwarted too many times tonight, because the look on his face when he turned toward the ghosts, was absolutely murderous. His teeth were bared in a snarl, a dark aura smothered the air around him, his red eyes gleamed like the pits of hell.

"Go. Away." The command was guttural, almost distorted.

"No, we—" Lahar tried again.

Macbeth held out his hand and used his magic to tighten the sheet around Lahar's neck.

"Get lost, you useless fleas, or you'll be leaving here as real ghosts."

"Come on, let's recover," Doranbolt yanked Lahar's arm. "Sorry to bother you!"

Despite his partner's protests, he pulled Lahar away, and through a back door, out of the guild hall, at long last.

Macbeth still fumed in the hallway. He looked back at Dreamer in irritation.

She was flustered by his passion. "Macbeth, you… You must really want…"

"Where were we?" he interrupted. He pushed her shoulders back against the wall, then captured her mouth in another kiss.

"W-wait!" She turned her head, an action that was met with a whine from Macbeth. "What if someone else sees us?"

He cursed under his breath, then pulled her further down the corridor to a closet. She tried to protest, but he was already pushing her inside and slamming the door behind them.

Dreamer gasped when she stumbled over something on the ground. She flicked the light switch.

Laying on the ground, tied up, gagged and unconscious, were the real Jet and Droy.

"Oh my god!" she gasped. "Wait, but if that's Jet and Droy, then who—"

"I don't care." Macbeth ignored the situation entirely, in favor for scooping her legs up around his hips and pressing her against the closet wall.

"Macbeth! We have to do something about them!"

"In a minute," he argued.

"They're knocked out!" She squirmed in his grip.

"Exactly," he grumbled against her collarbone. "They can wait a few more minutes."

"But—"

"Just shut up, Dreamer."

She was successfully silenced by his lips and tongue. At some point, in the midst of kissing her, Macbeth had taken off the cat collar he wore, and snapped it around her neck instead. "Much better," he taunted.

Dreamer sighed happily into a kiss. He was right, their unconscious guild mates could wait just a minute or two…

* * *

A block away from the Fairy Tail guild hall. They'd ran an entire block before stopping. Now, Lahar and Doranbolt ripped the sheets off, and faced each other. They were bruised and bloodied, and very, very harassed.

"We failed," Lahar said.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. That was…" Doranbolt scratched the back of his head. "Luck just wasn't on our side."

"I finally understand." Lahar said, cryptically. He was gazing distantly at children going door-to-door in Halloween costumes. "I understand the concept of trick-or-treats."

"What? Lahar, are you alright, man?"

"Tonight, it was us, Doranbolt. We were the ones experiencing the tricks, while Fairy Tail got the treats."

Doranbolt sweat-dropped. "Sure, Lahar. Whatever you say. How about we go home and recuperate?"

"Yes. I am in dire need of rest."

* * *

Makarov was looking out a guild hall window with a mischievous smile on his face.

"Happy Halloween~"

* * *

 **A/N: I hope that scene cracked you guys up as much as it did me. I tried to balance just the right amount of sexy and hilarious together. ;) Please, tell me your thoughts! I've missed all of you and your comments!**


	79. EC-4: The Dragon Slayers Babysit Syllest

**The Dragon Slayers Babysit Syllest**

Dreamer paced back and forth, half of the time forgetting to put things in her suitcase that she was holding—the other half the time, taking things out that she needed, then remembering she needed them.

"Quit pacing," Macbeth hissed from where he was leaning against the wall, one leg propped up.

"I can't help it!" she snapped back. "We were just told that we have to board a train in one hour, to complete a job that could take anywhere from one night to two weeks! How are _you_ so calm?!"

He rolled his eyes. "We all knew the Excalibur family would collect on its debt," he shrugged. "At least they're not making us go back to Pergrande."

She stopped pacing and chewed on her lip in frustration. "I guess that's true…"

As expected, the Excalibur Family's help at their estate had not come free. Even though it was partially Arturus's fault for not having detailed enough security to keep Resmond's henchmen from the estate, and even though the battle had happened a mere two miles from the castle, and even though Syllest had almost died and Dreamer had _actually_ died, the Family still demanded recompense. Macbeth was right, though. They could have ordered something much more extreme than traveling to a nearby city to conduct _interrogations._

"Thugs…" She grumbled under her breath.

"Shut up and pack your bag," he said with a yawn.

"Fine, but I have no idea how much stuff to bring because I don't know how long this is going to take!" She had half the mind to throw the suitcase and its contents out the window.

"I can help you pack, if you'd like."

Something about the drawl in his tone told Dreamer that this was not an innocent request. She glanced up to see him eyeing her open underwear drawer.

"GET OUT!" She chucked a heeled shoe at him.

The dual-haired mage smirked, but obeyed.

A few minutes later, Dreamer was finished packing, and was walking into the living room, looking thoroughly stressed and disheveled.

"Mira?" She called through the apartment. "Mirajane?!"

"Do you need to shout?" Macbeth made a face from where he'd been sleeping on the sofa, waiting for her. "She's not even here."

"What? Where is she? She doesn't go in to work until—"

"Family vacation with Eflman and Lisanna, remember?"

She blinked several times as she struggled to comprehend this piece of information. Suddenly, she gasped dramatically, panic flashing across pink eyes. "If Mira is gone, and Jezran has to come with us, then who's going to watch Syllestra?!"

"Relax, Dream." Macbeth stood up and went to the door. "Someone at the guild will do it, I'm sure."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, they were in the guild hall, and Dreamer was desperately seeking anyone who would babysit Syllest in their absence.

"Kinana!" She ran to the bar where the purple-haired woman was setting up for the day. "I really need your help!"

"Huh?" Kina blinked at her. "What is it, Dreamer?"

"Mira is gone, and Derelict Heart has to go on a job, and I can't bring Syllest because there's probably torture involved—don't ask—so I need someone to babysit her while I'm gone!"

Kina looked harassed by the obvious desperation in Dreamer's tone. She smiled nervously and played with the frills on her dress. "Um… I'd really like to help, Dreamer, but… Well, with Mira gone, I have to pull all of her work too. I won't have any time to watch Syllest."

Dreamer dropped her forehead on the bar with a sigh. "Okay, thanks anyway." She straightened up and tapped her chin in thought. "Aha!" She raised a finger triumphantly into the air. "Juvia! She was responsible for Syllestra before, right? She can totally—"

"No." Macbeth cut her off. "She stalked Gray on a solo job."

"Then, Erza!"

"You really want Titania watching her?"

Dreamer's temple began to pulse. She started to pace again. "Levy!"

"Translating runes in Crocus. Lucy is with her, so she's out, too."

"Laki?"

"Fixing a dam near Clover Town."

"WHY IS EVERYONE GONE?!" She dropped to her knees and put her face in her hands and began to sob.

Macbeth tensed instantly at the sight of Dreamer crying. He nervously tugged on his white braid, and carefully looked away from her. Suddenly, his expression darkened.

"Get up," he commanded. "I know what to do."

Dreamer stood with a sniffle. "W-Where are you going?" She watched him shove his hands in his pockets and walk briskly to the door.

* * *

A few moments later…

"Forget it." Erik shook his head, teeth bared in an almost-snarl. "I'm not babysitting your pipsqueak while you run off with your girlfriend."

Macbeth's gaze was unwavering, swirling pools of blood shaded with rage.

"Y-You can think that all you want, I'm not doing it." Erik said, paling slightly as he listened to Macbeth's thoughts.

"Fine." Macbeth suddenly looked away.

"That's it, really? You're not going to threaten me?" He slouched in relief.

"GAJEEL!" Macbeth yelled.

In two seconds flat, the iron slayer was at his side, panting as if he'd run all the way there. Macbeth smirked.

"What's up, Beth? You need something?"

"Watch Syllest while Dreamer and I are gone." Macbeth ordered, as way of an answer.

"Wha—WHY THE HELL DO I HAVE TO DO IT?!"

Macbeth never dropped his smirk as he met the other man's equally red eyes. "Who else could possibly be as competent as my _best friend_?"

Erik's eyebrow twitched.

Gajeel beamed brightly at the praise. "Well, you're right about one thing, Beth. No way in hell I'd ever let you down."

"Oh, Gajee~," Macbeth's smirk widened. "What would I do without a companion as _loyal_ and _self-sacrificing_ as you?"

Gajeel chuckled, puffing his chest out in pride. "Thought you'd never see it! Looks like I win, snake-breath!" He jutted a finger in Erik's direction.

"Tch." Erik rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "You think you can taunt me into babysitting the kid, do you Midnight?"

"I don't know what you mean." Macbeth shrugged innocently. "Come on, _friend_ ," he put a hand on Gajeel's shoulder. "Let's go get Syllest."

Erik watched them walk away for a moment, arms around one another's shoulders as if Gajeel had been the one to spend his entire childhood at the dual-haired wizard's side. He scoffed and looked away. Then, glanced back over his shoulder when Macbeth laughed loudly at something Gajeel had said.

 _I don't care, I don't care…_

 _Dammit._

"Alright! Fine! I'll watch the kid!"

Macbeth stopped in his tracks. He looked back at Erik with a positively evil gleam in his eyes. Erik scowled and looked away, fighting a slight coloring to his ears.

"Oh?" Macbeth cocked his head, causing earrings to sway. "You'll both take care of her?"

"I didn't say that!" Erik snapped.

"Yeah, what the hell do I need pointy-ears help for?"

"Four eyes are better than two," Macbeth pointed out. "Or do you _want_ Syllest to get hurt or lost or kidnapped?" The hell that shone in Macbeth's eyes at that moment was enough to make both of them gulp in terror.

"Hey, hey, nothing's happening to the pipsqueak on my watch, alright?" Gajeel said. "I'll take shifts with the snake-lover if you really want."

Macbeth stared at Erik in silence, waiting for his agreement.

Erik grunted in obvious frustration. "You still play dirty, Midnight."

"Come here." Macbeth gestured for him with his finger. Be it from some previously programmed obedience, or current fear, Erik strode over to him.

Macbeth suddenly gripped a fistful of each of the men's hair in his hands.

"HEY, THE HELL, BETH?!"

"Dammit!"

"Listen to me," Macbeth said, in his darkest, most terror-invoking voice. "If anything happens to Syllestra while we're gone, I will make the rest of your life a living hell. I will haunt you every time you close your eyes. You will wish for the sweet lullaby of death to free you from endless terror. There will be no place on this continent where you will be safe from my wrath, do you understand?"

"We understand," the dragon slayers whimpered in unison.

"Good." He released them, put his hands back in his coat pockets, and walked lazily back toward the main hall.

"He really cares about that little monster," Erik said with a residual shudder.

"Course he does," Gajeel grinned affectionately at Macbeth's retreating form. "He's her old man, now."

Erik scoffed, but remained silent. A hint of a smile lingered on his lips. "Come on, we better catch up."

* * *

"Erik and Gajeel?!" Dreamer stared at Macbeth in utter disbelief. " _That's_ your great idea?!"

"Hey, we're standing right here, you know?!" Gajeel clenched a fist.

"Sorry," she looked apologetically at them. "I mean, no I'm not sorry! Macbeth, you want me to leave my child with dragon slayers?!"

"I'm insulted." Erik sat on a bench with a sigh.

"Sorry. _No_ , not sorry!" She shook her head. "There's no way!"

Macbeth put both of his hands on Dreamer's shoulders. "Dream. Trust me. There's no one more reliable than Erik—"

"I'M STANDIN' RIGHT HERE!"

"—he can listen for her constantly. She'll be safe."

"Macbeth… I know you trust him, but—" uncertainty flickered in her cherry-blossom eyes.

"Sh." He pressed a finger against her lips. "Trust me, sweet Dream."

"B-But I—"

He cut her off this time with a kiss, dipping her head back with his fingertips hooked under her chin.

Erik winced, as if seeing and hearing this was physically painful. Gajeel shuffled uncomfortably, settling for putting his chin on his fist and staring at the door.

"I…" When Macbeth broke the kiss, Dreamer was trembling. "Okay."

His plum lips drew up in a victorious smirk. "Good little Dream."

"He always gets his way," Erik grumbled.

"Listen," Dreamer turned on the two dragon slayers, suddenly. "If anything happens to Syllest while we're gone, I'll charm Master into kicking you both out of the guild, do you understand?!"

They fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Yes, ma'am."

"HEY," Piper's voice yelled in from the guild hall doors. "We ain't got alls day! Grab your shit and let's go!"

Dreamer still looked nervous. She scanned Gajeel and Erik over a few more times, while chewing on her lip in frustration—until Macbeth gave her a rough shove in the lower back. He dropped his arm around her waist and whispered something in her ear that made her face flash cherry red. Whatever it was, it had the effect of keeping her distracted as she was ushered out the door.

"What'd he say?" Gajeel asked, curiously. "Something about 'if you're a good girl—'"

"Forget it," Erik cut him off. "Let's find this kid before things get out of hand."

* * *

The guild hall was eerily empty, but for a black-haired girl and two dragon slayers.

Syllestra sat on the edge of a table, kicking her legs and humming. Gajeel and Erik sat on opposite benches from one another, staring at her as if she were an alien species.

A clock ticked incessantly in the background. Kinana washed dishes in almost complete silence.

"So…" Gajeel tapped his fingertips on the table. "What do you usually do around now?"

Syllest stopped kicking her legs. She cocked her head to the side and tapped her chin, in deep thought. "Hmm… What time is it?"

"Eight in the morning," Erik answered instantly.

"Oh…" She put her palms on the table and rocked back and forth. "Right!" She grinned cheerily at the two men. "This is when Mom gives me an ice cream cone and jelly beans!"

"Seriously?!" Gajeel's eyes went wide with awe. "Every day?!"

"Well…" She frowned for a moment. "Not _every_ day. Sometimes she gives me cookies instead!"

Erik rolled his eyes. "You know she's lying rig—aaaand he's gone." He sighed heavily and shot Syllest a look. She shrugged innocently, and went back to humming.

Gajeel returned moments later with an ice cream cone and a bag of candy.

"Wow! Thanks Uncle Gajee~" Syllest happily received the offerings. "I'll make sure to tell Dad that you were a super good babysitter!"

"Heh heh, that's what I like to hear, kid." Gajeel crossed his arms over his chest and grinned widely. "Keep talkin' me up to Beth and he'll finally admit he likes me more than beady-eyes over here."

"It's not a competition, idiot," Erik snapped, a little too harshly.

"Be nice, Erik!" Kinana called from the bar.

Erik's eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

Syllest kicked her legs and ate her cone in silence. The two men sat awkwardly, listening to time pass by, achingly slowly.

"What are we going to do next?" Syllest asked, as she licked melted ice cream off her fingers.

Gajeel and Erik exchanged a look that said they had absolutely no idea.

"I don't know, kid, what do you usually do?" the poison slayer asked.

"I don't know!" She shrugged, helpfully. "It's Saturday, so it's always different! Sometimes Mom takes me to the park, or I play with Romeo, except he's not here right now because his dad took him to do something I can't remember what, though. Sometimes I just go with my mom while she does Aaron's—"

"Errands," Erik corrected.

"Or now that I have a dad, we sometimes go take naps by the river. Or he takes a nap and I build sandcastles, I guess—since you guys are watching me, does that kind of make you like my dads, too? Heehee, it's like you're two dads taking care of your daughter, isn't it? It's okay for a family to have two dads, you know? This is the year X784, people are allowed to like whoever they want to like! I used to think Macbeth liked boys, because he looks kind of like a girl, but he really likes Mom, so I guess that can't be true—unless he likes boys _and_ girls, I guess. Erik, did you ever date my dad? You guys lived together before he came here, right? It's okay if you did, but you're not allowed to anymore because he's with my mommy now, and that wouldn't be right, so back off, okay? And Gajeel, I think Levy likes you, so if you don't like girls you should probably tell her before her heart gets broken and—"

Gajeel clamped his hand over Syllestra's mouth. "We gotta do something with this pipsqueak, right now!"

"I agree." Erik tugged on one of his ears.

Syllest pulled Gajeel's hand down. "What do _you_ guys usually do right now?" she asked.

"I'm usually at the gym liftin' weights," Gajeel said, as he scratched the back of his head.

"Oooh, can I come?!"

"I don't know, kid… The men's gym ain't really a place for—"

"Please, please, please, please, please, please, please—"

"SHIT, OKAY! JUST STOP TALKING!"

Syllestra beamed brightly, knowing she'd won.

"Hm. Midnight would be so proud." Erik rolled his eyes and stood. "Let's just do it. Maybe she'll wear herself out on a treadmill and take a nap."

"I will, I will!" She jumped up and down with her bag of jelly beans.

"Alright, kid! Just calm down!" Gajeel reached a hand out to help her get off the table, but she climbed on his shoulders instead.

"ONWARD, MARCH!"

"Goddammit, Beth… I ain't gonna forget this."

Kinana giggled from behind the counter as she watched the three of them leave. "Those poor boys. They're going to need all the help they can get."

* * *

"Y'know, maybe this wasn't such a good idea…" Gajeel and Erik both sweat-dropped as Syllest swung on a punching bag.

"Just ignore her," Erik turned his back, and put earphone on to block out the noise.

"Hey, asshole!" Gajeel snatched them right off his spiky hair. "You can't just ignore her! She's our responsibility!"

"It seems to me like she's keeping herself occupied well enough."

Syllestra was now running backwards on a treadmill, and spilling jelly beans into the tread.

Gajeel wasn't so sure. He continued to watch Syllestra while Erik hopped on a separate treadmill to run.

"Gajeel, show me how you get your arms so big! Show me, please! I want to be big and strong, too!"

"Uh… Alright, kid. Come here, I'll show you some weightlifting techniques, I guess."

"YAY~!"

Gajeel was laughing as Syllest struggled to hoist a bar over her chest, the moment the doors opened. In walked Freed, Bixlow, and Laxus, all in exercise shorts with towels around their shoulders. Laxus stopped walking when he saw Syllest. The other two ran into his broad back.

"Hi, Laxus!" Syllest waved vigorously at the blond.

"What are you idiots doing?" He raised an eyebrow. "Why the hell do you have Dragon's kid in here?"

"Dreamer," Erik corrected, as he stepped off the treadmill.

"We're babysitting her," Gajeel said. "You got a problem with it, sparky?"

Laxus scowled. "Babysitting? Isn't that a woman's job?"

"That's why Gajeel is doing it," Erik gibed.

"Watch it, snake-breath! Beth made both of us responsible!"

"They're like two dads!" Syllest squealed, jumping up and down on the bench.

"WE ARE NOT."

"You mean to tell me…" Laxus crossed his arms. "That Daenarys and Mac left you idiots in charge of their kid?"

"That is how it appears, indeed," Freed commented.

"And your idea of watching a kid, is taking her to play on gym equipment?"

"You think you could do it better, asshole?!" Gajeel snapped.

"Whoa, watch the language around short-stuff," Bixlow laughed out loud.

Laxus thought seriously about this. He stroked his chin, eyes flickering from Erik, to Gajeel, to Syllest, and back.

 _This poor fucking kid… She was raised without an old man, then the first guy to take her under his wing was Midnight, which is basically the same as having another mom. She's got to have the most screwed up idea of what a man really is, and leaving her with these two numbskulls? Do they_ want _her to be a totally screwed up adult?_

"Hey, kid." Laxus said suddenly. "Why don't you come with me? I'll take you to the park."

"REALLY?!" Syllest jumped off the bench and ran into Laxus's outstretched arms. "WHOA! This is like a dream come true…"

"HEY!" Gajeel made a fist. "That's _our_ kiddo!"

"Let him have her," Erik said.

"No way! Beth'd kill us! Then Dreamer would doubly kill us! Then Levy would kill me again!"

Erik groaned in frustration.

"Come on, kid." Laxus hoisted Syllest onto his shoulders and stepped back out the door.

"Hey, since when did you become daddy-bird, Laxus?" Bixlow shouted after him.

"Let him be, Bixlow." Freed smiled warmly after the other man. "His heart is simply softening."

"Dammit, Laxus! Wait up!" Gajeel shot out the door after him.

Erik looked at the doorway for a long moment, debating about whether he could get away with ditching this whole charade or not. Finally, he let out a long sigh and followed. He knew Syllest well enough to know for sure that she'd let Macbeth know if he decided to ditch her.

"Have fun with Daria's kid!" Bixlow yelled after him.

 _You seriously owe me, Midnight._

* * *

"Hey, Laxus, your lightning is really cool, I really like it. Have you ever accidentally started a fire with it? Is it hard to control? Are you like a giant battery? If all the power went out in Magnolia, could you start it back up again? Does your magic come from your lacrima or does the lacrima just make it easier for you to learn lightning spells? I don't really understand how that works because there's different kinds of dragon slayers, and you and Uncle Erik are the ones that weren't raised by dragons, you just have a lacrima inside of you that makes you able to use dragon slayer magic right? Does that mean it's a lacrima the dragons made? Or does it have like a dragon soul trapped inside of it?! Do you think my mom can learn blood dragon magic now that she has that one guy's heart? Is my _mom_ a _dragon slayer_?! You know, I really wanted you to be my dad for a long time, and I thought you and Mom would date, but then I think you didn't date her because she was dating Mystogan—I know she says she wasn't, but I read his secret letters to her. She still has them stashed in her closet, you know. So, I think—"

"Kid," Laxus cut her off. "You want to be a Fairy Tail wizard one day, right?" He picked her up and sat her on her feet.

"Yeah, of course I do!"

"Then the first thing you gotta learn is when to be quiet." He crouched in front of her. "Sometimes, the best thing we can do is listen."

"Okay, Mr. Laxus!"

He nodded in approval, and kept walking. Syllest chased after him, skipping the whole time.

Gajeel and Erik caught up, but before Gajeel could open his mouth, Syllest hushed him.

"It's time to be quiet, Gajeel!" she hissed.

"Finally," Erik said dryly from behind him.

Laxus led them past the Sola tree, to the river, then sat down next to it. Syllest wordlessly sat beside him. Gajeel crouched nearby, and Erik leaned against a building several feet away.

"Do you know how to fish?" Laxus asked, after a long moment.

Syllest nodded vigorously. "I went with Happy before!"

"Have you ever used magic to fish?" he clarified.

Syllest stared at him, her eyes lingering on the lightning bolt scar on his face. She shook her head slowly. "I've never used my magic to fish."

"Watch this."

He stared at the water for a long time. So long, that Syllest started to get bored. She tapped her fingers on the pavement and sighed. Finally, he plunged his hand into the water. There was a spark from below the surface, and the dragon slayer plucked a fish out of the river and sat it next to her.

"WHOA?! Did you shock it with your magic?!" She poked the fish, mouth gaping in awe.

"Show off," Gajeel grumbled.

"Yeah, it's easy when you use electricity," Erik pointed out. "What do you expect her to do? Throw rocks?"

"Shut up, meanies!" Syllest snapped at them. "I can do it! And I'm gonna tell my dad that you guys didn't believe in me!"

Their jaws clamped shut.

Syllest laid on her stomach and stared at the water, little black eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. She watched the ripples on the surface, and tried her best to see the movement of fins below, or the shimmer of scales. She put her hands together and willed her magic circles. Then, she suddenly plunged her hands in, as Laxus had done.

"I-I got one!" She squeaked. "But it's too big! I can't get it—AAAH!"

There was a splash, as the child was yanked unceremoniously into the current.

"SYLLEST!" Gajeel and Erik jumped to their feet.

"We're dead!"

Gajeel dove into the water while Erik ran alongside the river to catch up with the flailing child in the water.

"LET GO OF THE FISH, KID!"

"NO WAY!" She spat water out and then was dragged back down by the creature.

...

Further down the river, Natus and Happy were fishing on the bank.

"Nothin' biting today, Happy?"

"No," Happy sighed. "Just small fries."

"Don't give up yet, little buddy!"

"But I'm sooo hungry!"

Natsu opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of splashing.

"WHOA, Natsu, there's something HUGE on my line!" Happy's wings sprouted and he tried to reel something in, but it dragged him downstream with it. "Natsu HELP!"

"I've got ya, bud!" Natsu grabbed Happy's feet and pulled. The pole bent as the line went taut.

"There's another one coming!" Happy screeching in fear at the side of something else tearing through the water toward them.

"Don't let go of that fishing pole!" A voice shouted, as Erik raced toward them.

"What the—?" Natsu looked in all directions. "If you want the fish that bad, I can just… FIRE DRAGON'S—"

A bolt of lightning ricocheted through his body, cutting him off.

"Don't use magic, idiot! You'll kill her!" Laxus was running alongside the other side of the river.

"Oh no, Natsu… We have a problem."

Due to being charred by electricity, Happy had dropped the fishing pole. The large, struggling shapes were being pulled further downstream.

"Someone do something!" Gajeel yelled.

"That's Syllest in the water, Natsu!" Erik said, panting for breath.

"Syllest…" Natsu cocked his head to the side, then his eyes went wide. "Can she fly?"

"What?"

"Cuz there's a waterfall right around that corner, and if she can't fly—"

"GET HER!"

Happy was already zipping in the air above the river, trying to catch up. "Don't worry, guys! I'll catch her!"

The perilous drop approached. A twenty-foot plummet onto jagged rocks. Happy flew over the edge and braced himself. "I'm ready!"

A flailing shape dropped over the edge. Happy dove into the water. The dragon slayers finally caught up, and all stared from the cliffside, waiting for the blue cat to emerge. For a moment, there was no sound… nothing. Then…

"NATSU!" Happy's voice called up from the mist. "It's a miracle! I did it!"

"He got her," Erik sighed in relief.

"Looks like the cat is useful after all," Laxus commented, but with real relief on his face.

"Bring her up, Happy!" Natsu cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted.

There was the sound of Happy's wings flapping. He rose into the air, a beaming grin on his face…

…and a giant fish in his paws.

Four sets of jaws dropped.

"It's the biggest fish I've ever caught, Natsu!" Happy drooled. "I told you! It's a miracle!"

"Happy! You were supposed to catch Syllest!"

Happy flopped the fish on the shore. "I was going to, but she never fell!"

"You're sure?" Natsu asked.

"Aye, sir!"

"Alright, everyone split up," Laxus commanded, as he rolled up his sleeves. "She can't be far." His expression was grave. "You know what'll happen if we don't find this kid…"

They gulped.

* * *

A bird cawed overhead. Two preteens stared down at a wet pile of clothes and hair between them.

"Do you think we should tell someone?" one of the boys asked. He had spiky blond hair and wore an orange vest. A scar stretched from his right eyebrow.

"I-I don't know…" The other had long black hair and red eyes, and was trembling slightly.

"Hey." The blond jabbed the unconscious girl with the toe of his shoe. "Hey! Wake up! Are you okay?"

"I don't think yelling at her is going to help, Sting…" the other boy whispered.

"Well, what are you gonna do, Rogue?" The blond snapped, defensively. "Give her CPR?"

"Ew, no!"

Suddenly, the young girl coughed. She flailed for a few moments, then sat bolt upright, her pink eyes as wide as saucers.

"Am I dead?" she whispered, eyes flickering back and forth between the preteens. "Are you… angels?"

Sting grinned widely, Rogue looked away with a blush.

"Nah! We're dragon slayers!" Sting held his hand out and helped her stand up. "What happened to you? We thought you were gonna drown!"

"Oh! Hi, my name's Syllest! I was trying to fish with one of my uncles or daddies or whatever he is, and I hooked a fish but then I fell in and… wait, did you say dragon slayers?"

"Nice one, Sting…" Rogue grumbled. "We weren't supposed to tell anyone in Magnolia who we are."

"HEY KID!" A voice echoed from somewhere nearby. "YOU ALIVE?"

Syllest tensed, then suddenly grabbed the boys' hands. "We have to run!"

"Wha—why?" Sting blinked, uncomprehending.

"Those guys are trying to find me!" Her expression was grave. "They're horrible people. Big and scary and, and, and…" She furrowed her brows. "They tortured me with the gym…"

"Jim?" Rogue whispered in horror.

"We gotta keep her safe from Jim!" Sting tugged her behind a building. "Don't worry! We're dragon slayers! We'll protect you!"

"Hee hee, okay!" She grinned from ear to ear, and skipped along with the older boys.

* * *

The men were fanned out, searching the forest and streets.

"Can you smell her, Natsu?" Happy asked, while toting around his catch.

"I'm tryin' but…" He groaned, and shook his head. "Her scent is all washed away!"

"Hey, what about you, pointy-ears?" Gajeel yelled over to Erik, who was looking in a dumpster. "Hear her anywhere?"

"It's kind of hard with all your shouting," Erik winced.

"Everyone shut up and let Cobra listen!" Laxus shouted. The others fell instantly into silence.

Erik straightened up and closed his eyes. His brows furrowed in concentration. "…yeah. I think I got her. I could hear those rants from ten miles away."

"Lead the way, then!"

Erik started down an alleyway. "She's running. And she's not alone."

"No way…" Natsu and Happy shared a look. "Kidnappers?"

"You'll just have to show them who's boss, Natsu!"

"Aye!"

"Hey, listen, Erik," Gajeel said as they ran. "When Beth asks how this babysitting thing went, we're gonna tell him that we took the pipsqueak to the park, made her a PB&J, and put her down for a nap, okay?"

"Fine with me."

"How long do you think we need to run, Sting?" Rogue asked, as they turned yet another corner.

"Maybe we shouldn't run…" Sting's eyes gleamed. "Maybe we should stop and fight! We can take a couple of kidnappers!"

"But what about this Jim? He sounds scary…"

"Aw, come on! We beat _dragons,_ remember?"

The black-haired boy didn't look so confident. He was about to retort when he realized that Syllest was gone—an outline of her shape lingering in space.

"Where did she…"

In the adjacent street, vendors packed the sidewalks, selling goods. The crowd was huge, and they could just make out a head of black hair whipping in between people.

"Hey, little girl!" Sting pushed people aside to catch up with her. "What are you doing?"

"Do you have money?" she asked suddenly.

"Uh…"

"Cuz look at this cute bear!" She hoisted a toy up from a stand. "It's so soft and cute and cuddly and its got a special recording lacrima so it can record your voice and you can give it to someone special! I should get one for Romeo!"

"Um… no offense, little girl, but we don't have money to be spending on kid toys. And shouldn't we get out of here before those guys—"

"And Jim—"

"—catch up with us?"

"Oh…" she blinked a few times. "Right! I know where we can go! This way!"

* * *

The men turned a corner and skidded to a halt.

"What's up, Erik?"

"Shut up, I can't focus." He closed his eyes and scowled. "There are so many people here…"

They had emerged on a crowded market-street.

"I can definitely hear her voice though… Come on."

"LOOK OUT, DETECTIVES NATSU AND HAPPY ON THE CASE!" Natsu barreled through the crowd. "Excuse me, Sir, have you seen anyone that looks like a kidnapper around here?"

"There!" Erik pointed at a vendor selling toys across the street. His cart was lined with stuffed animals, figurines, and other children's toys. "There she is!"

Gajeel shouldered his way through, to the stand, and looked back and forth, but to no avail. "Kid? KID?!" He huffed. "She's not here, snake-breath."

"Yes, she is." He stopped walking to listen. "I know I heard…"

"Hee hee."

They both froze, trying to identify the source of the sound.

"Hee hee."

Erik crouched down to look under the stand.

"Hee hee."

He stood up, slowly. His face was deadpan and pale, and he was holding a stuffed bear in one hand. He held it up to Gajeel, and pressed a button on its paw.

"Hee hee, hide and seek! Hee hee, hide and seek!"

"You mean to tell me you were hearing a doll this whole time?!" Gajeel fumed.

"How was I supposed to know she'd pull an evil trick like this?!"

"She's BETH'S kid! Of course, she's gonna pull tricks on us!"

"Now we're out of leads."

"Not exactly," Laxus said from a few feet away. His eyes were narrowed, gaze on the edge of the crowd where a cart of pink roses had been knocked over.

* * *

Syllest climbed over a chain-link fence, then looked expectantly at Sting and Rogue.

"I think it's private property…" Rogue said.

"Little girl, isn't that a school?"

"Yep!" She put her hands on her hips and beamed at them. "It's _my_ school! No one will find us here! They're too stupid to look in a school!"

"Makes sense." Sting hopped over the fence.

"What? No, it doesn't!" Rogue sighed, but followed.

"I'll show you around! No one's here because we don't have school today, but that's okay! Over there is the playground! I really like the tall slide but some bullies always try to stop the other kids from going down, so one day I tied the bully's shoelaces to the grate and he fell and hit his head and I had to stay after school and my mom was soooo mad. Do you go to school? How old are you anyways? Do dragon slayers ever go to school? I don't think Natsu went to school, and that other girl Wendy doesn't go to school. Maybe you could come to my school and we could be friends! I don't have any friends… except Romeo and all my family!"

"Do you really think she's running away from someone?" Rogue whispered as they walked behind her. "It would make more sense if someone was running away from _her_."

"Hee hee, my shoes are so squeaky!"

Her sneakers, which were still wet from falling into the river, squeaked and squelched with every step. She left a trail of mud in her wake. "Ooops, someone's gonna have to clean this up! I think they were supposed to hire a new cleaning lady cuz the old one left. She said Magnolia is too crazy and she wants to live on an island far away from wizards. That's so silly, right? Wizards are great! I'm a wizard! Wanna see what I can do?"

Before either of the them had the chance to answer, footsteps echoed in the hall. The three children stopped in their tracks and listened.

"Do you think it's Jim?" Rogue whispered.

The footsteps stopped. Then…

"How vile! What ingrate would walk on my freshly polished floor with filthy shoes?!"

"RUN!" Syllest giggled and fled, her little shoes squeaking loudly. She ran into a classroom, out into the hall, then into the cafeteria.

"Stay out!" The voice yelled. "Do not get your bacteria infested body anywhere near the place where food is prepared, trespasser!"

"Sting! Rogue! Battle stations!" Syllest stood on a table and pointed the other tables next to her. She braced herself, facing the door. "I'll fight you, cleaning lady!"

A harassed and angry figure walked through the cafeteria doors. His white hair was tied up in a hair net, and he wore elbow-length cleaning gloves and galoshes. He stopped in his tracks. Syllest stared at him. He stared back.

"…Princess?"

"Heart guy?"

Sânge blinked, uncomprehending.

"You know this guy, little girl?"

"Yeah, he saved my mommy! After he kidnapped me and dragged me up to meet my mean daddy who held me over a giant pit with diamonds in it, though. What are you doing here, heart guy?"

"I…" Sânge's cheeks took slight color. "I have been out of employment since I… er… left the employment of… Yes, well, what are you doing here, young lady?!"

"I'm having fun!" Syllest said brightly.

A door slammed open in the distance.

"She's in here!"

"Uh oh…" Syllest looked at the door, barred by Sânge. Suddenly, she took off her shoe and one, brown, dripping sock, and chucked it at the blood dragon-slayer. There was a splat, as the slimy sock slid down his face.

Instant knock out.

"Sorry, heart guy!" Syllest hopped off the table, used Sange's back as a spring board, and continued her escape.

"H-Hey, wait for us!"

Syllest was already long gone. The men in pursuit ran past the cafeteria. Only Laxus stopped, noticing the boys standing dumbfounded in the doorway. "What the hell are you doing here? Go on, get out of here. This is Fairy Tail business."

"Fairy Tail…?!" Sting and Rogue looked back and forth at one another.

"I said get out!"

* * *

The sun was dipping in the sky, casting Magnolia in golden hues. A group of dragon slayers met under the Sola tree, defeat in their eyes.

Natsu was wet, with twigs in his hair. Gajeel was dusty, with shoe prints on his clothes. Laxus's coat was missing a sleeve. Erik had a sharpie heart drawn on his cheek. Happy was happily munching a cooked fish.

"It's been hours…" Erik said, his voice shaky.

"We lost her for real this time," Gajeel agreed.

"Man, I'm so hungry…" Natsu's stomach growled.

"This would have never happened if you two weren't so incompetent", Laxus snapped at Erik and Gajeel, though there was no real passion in his voice. "I'm getting out of here."

"What? You're giving up? Real manly, spark-plug!" Gajeel snapped.

"Look, the kid was your responsibility. Me and Natsu are off the hook. You two might as well skip town tonight and live on an island."

Gajeel and Erik shared a look of horror.

"Ah, come on, guys!" Natsu straightened up. "I bet she went back to the guild hall to get some grub!"

"That's just what _you_ wanna do, Natsu."

"Yeah, so? Kids get hungry too!"

"It's worth a shot…" Erik sighed.

Their feet dragged as they walked back to the guild hall, heads hung low.

"We're dead…"

"Doubly dead."

"Triply dead…"

Natsu kicked the door open. "Hey, Kina! I'm starvin' over here! Can I get some chicken?"

"No problem, Natsu!" Kinana waved at them as she organized glasses on the bar.

They stepped inside.

"Well, it looks like you guys had fun," Kina giggled. Her eyes lingered on the heart on Erik's cheek.

"Has the kid come by here?" Gajeel asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! A few hours ago!"

Erik and Gajeel shared a startled look.

"Where is she, Kinana?"

"Right there! You didn't see her?" She pointed behind them. They swiveled around and looked.

Syllest was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She had a clean nightgown on, slippers, and was having her hair brushed by Wendy who sat on the couch behind her. She opened her pink eyes and gazed innocently at the men.

"Hi, Uncle Gajeel and Uncle Erik."

Gajeel clenched a fist. "I'm gonna—"

"What?" Erik cut him off. "You can't lay a finger on her and she knows it."

Gajeel pouted.

"Oh, hello!" Wendy smiled at them. "Syllest said you guys were playing tag in the city! Carla and I gave her a bath when she got home. It's so nice to see you taking care of her."

"Tag…" Erik pinched his temples. "Yeah, right." His voice was drained of all emotion.

"Come sit with me, uncles!" Syllest patted the rug on both sides of her. "Gajee, I wanna brush your hair! And Erik can put pretty bows in mine!"

"No way, kid!" Gajeel bared his canines, studded eyebrow twitching in fury. "You know how much trouble you're in? We were worried as hell about you!"

Syllest's pink eyes wavered. Her bottom lip trembled. "I… I'm sorry…" Tears gathered on her eyelashes. "I just wanted," *sniff*, "to have fun with you guys…"

Erik and Gajeel shared a panicked look.

"Hey, you don't need to cry, alright?" Erik took a careful step forward, hand raised as if approaching a wild animal.

"Yeah, just… No more runnin' off, got it?"

"I promise…" She sniffled. "Do… do you hate me?"

Wendy stopped brushing her hair, when Syllest put her face in her knees and started to sob. "Oh! Syllest, I'm sure they don't hate you!"

"They do hate me!" She sobbed louder. "Cuz I was bad and I was a nuance—"

"Nuisance," Erik corrected.

"And they're gonna tell my mom that I was bad, and my life will be over!" Tears splattered in all directions.

"Look," Erik walked closer. "We won't tell on you."

"We'd be screwed if we did," Gajeel sweat-dropped.

"I'm so sad!" Syllest wailed.

"Look at what you've done!" Carla put her hands on her hips and huffed at them, tail twitching. "How manly! You've made a little girl cry. I hope you're proud of yourselves."

"It's okay, Syllestra." Wendy patted her head. She looked up at Erik and Gajeel, petitioning them with chocolate eyes. "Please, be nice."

"Yeah!" Syllest sobbed. "If you want me to stop crying, then… then…" She wiped her eyes. "You'll let me play with your hair." This was said in monotone, a dark shadow passing over her face. There was a sinister spark in her eyes.

Gajeel was sitting cross-legged in front of her in the next half-second.

Syllest's tears were instantly dried. She grinned brightly, took the brush from Wendy, and started tearing through his thick hair.

Erik shoved his hands in his pockets, then carefully took two steps backward, hoping to slink away unnoticed.

Syllest loudly cleared her throat and patted the floor beside her.

Erik sighed in defeat. He took his spot next to the evil child, and accepted a proffered basket of bows from Wendy.

The pink-eyed devil could not have been more pleased.

* * *

Dreamer's suitcase bounced loudly on the cracks in the pavement as she half-jogged toward the apartment. She silently thanked the gods over and over that the job had only taken one night. Still, she had been haunted by thoughts about what kind of tragedies could be occurring back home, with the two unwitting babysitters.

"Dream," Macbeth sighed as he tried to keep pace with her. "She's fine."

Dreamer wasn't so sure. She'd napped on the train ride home and dreamt of Syllestra climbing chain-linked fences, running from someone. In another dream, the girl had drowned. In yet another she had followed strangers through alleyways.

Her pace quickened.

She gasped when the apartment came into view, then completely abandoned her suitcase to run for the door. Macbeth cursed under his breath, and picked up her luggage with his own. Dreamer was already at the door, fiddling nervously with the key in the lock. She shoved the door open, and stepped onto the carpet, eyes darting around the room.

Macbeth caught up a few moments later. He peeked in the door. His boisterous laughter suddenly resounded through the living room.

The living room had been turned into a pink blanket-fort. Popcorn and candy littered the floor. A giant pile of pillows made a makeshift mattress, on which were a little girl, and two full-grown men.

Gajeel and Erik were wearing fuzzy, pink bunny onesies. Gajeel's hair had been braided haphazardly, and littered with bows and glitter. Erik's fingernails were painted with rainbows, and he had donut stickers on his cheeks. Clip-on earrings hung from his pointed ears. The two of them were completely unconscious, slumped against each other on the bed of pillows. Between them, snuggled in the middle, was a peacefully sleeping child with a wide smile on her face.

"I told you they were fine," Macbeth commented.

"Look at this mess! And candy, at this hour?! When they wake up I'm going to—"

"Sh." Macbeth put a finger to his lips. "Let it go, Dream." His eyes twinkled. "And let me take you to your room."

Her cheeks colored, as she was officially distracted from the mess. "My room? Why?"

"So I can tuck you in, of course," he drawled.

She swallowed nervously, then shut the front door behind them with a sigh. "Well…" she glanced at the snoring, snuggling group on the floor. "She's safe and happy."

"They probably stayed in the apartment all day."

"Yeah…" She nodded, slowly. "I don't know why I was worried."

"Neither do I." He interlaced his fingers with hers. "Now, let's go to your room before I get sleepy."

"You… might as well sleep here tonight," Dreamer said, as they carefully stepped over pillows and stuffed animals. "Since… you know, it's already a slumber party."

"Should I wear a bunny-suit, too?" He smirked, as they escaped the living room into the hall.

"No," she said, too quickly. "I-I mean… I don't want you to put on _more_ clothes."

Macbeth tripped on the carpet at these words. "Oh?" His cheeks colored. "Bold tonight, aren't we?"

She squeezed his hand, as they retreated to her bedroom.

In the living room, Erik's head slumped forward, bunny hood drooping to cover his eyes. Syllest's eyelashes fluttered peacefully, the serene smile never leaving her lips.

The angelic, little devil.


	80. EC-5 The King and His Dream

**A/N: Hello, friends! Thank you for sticking around to read my EC's, and for waiting patiently for the sequel to drop! You are truly the best readers I could ever ask for.**

 **This EC is especially for you Dreamogan shippers. You asked for one more Dreamogan scene, and here it is~ It's cringey, it's sappy, and hopefully it will quench your shipping thirsts.**

 **Also, to those of you who have been stirred up by all the Middream flirting in the past couple of EC's, asking me for a Middream lemon... Cool your jets. I'm thinking about it, but it won't be until the sequel, if I choose to post it (Middream wasn't made "official" before she left for Tenrou Island). You might just get your wish, if you stick around for the sequel~ There's also a possibility that I will post it separately from the main fic, itself, to preserve a rated T rating for the story, and out of respect to any readers that aren't interested in a tangled up Middream. ;) We'll talk about this again at a later date. In the meantime, enjoy all the steamy bits I'm throwing in these EC's.**

* * *

 **The King and His Dream**

The repairs to the Royal City were running more smoothly than anyone had anticipated. With the help of the Fairy Tail guild, and the hopeful spirit instilled by their new king, the residents had already rebuilt nearly 3/4ths of the city. Despite the complete loss of magic in Edolas, the streets were filled with laughter. The Royal City stood as a shining example of how destruction can breed unity, under the right circumstances and the right leader. Of course, there was pain and suffering as inhabitants struggled to adjust to the major changes in their lives. Particularly in outlying towns beyond the city, where rebuilding was taking longer, and the impact of the Earth Land events was greatest. The government had never been more involved in the lives of its citizens, however. The king ensured that all soldiers were kept busy helping regular citizens. He had appointed an entirely new board of politicians, trusted friends of the people, to make economic decisions for their home regions. Under his rule, the kingdom had entered a new era of prosperity, after ages of fear.

King Jellal was the leader Edolas needed.

As for him, personally, life was stressful. Sleepless nights kept organizing the masses. He aimed to be a king that the people could relate to and trust, after the debauchery of the throne before him. But, in truth, he found himself craving solitude—often yearning for his days in Earth Land, when he would wander alone for weeks at times, disguised, invisible. He missed the peace and quiet. More than that, though, he missed his friends.

He wondered about them every day, all the time. He hoped they were faring well, though he was sure they were just as rambunctious and healthy as always. He missed curt conversations with Laxus. He missed the wise words of Makarov. He missed watching from the balcony as his guild-mates drank and celebrated victories below. He had spent some time getting to know the Fairy Tail of this world, which certainly had its own charm, but… part of his heart would always long for his other home.

It was Sunday, and he had blocked out several hours in the day to sit on the throne and hear the people. Erza Knightwalker stood to his right, Coco to his left. The pink-cheeked girl held a notepad, on which she was quickly scribbling requests from the people. It was Erza's responsibility to advise the king, and keep him informed about the status of the troops available to help.

"Thank you, Your Highness," an elderly man bowed over and over in front of the throne.

"There is no need to thank me," King Jellal smiled warmly. "It's my duty to help you in any way that I can. You can count on a medical team arriving at your village in two days' time."

"Bless you, Your Highness. Bless you!" The man bowed several more times before being escorted from the room.

The King let out a tired breath, his body sore and tired from sitting for so long.

"You should rest, Your Highness," Coco said, worriedly.

"Thank you for caring, Coco, but I am fine." He stretched, then nodded at Erza.

"Next!" Knightwalker bellowed. The doors to the throne room were opened by soldiers, allowing the next citizen to enter.

Two pairs of feet pattered on the stone floor, one lighter than the other. A woman and child approached the throne, heads down. They kneeled before their king.

"Please, stand." King Jellal waved at them. He leaned forward in the throne, placing his elbows on his knees. "How may I—" The words caught in his throat.

The woman had straightened up. She was petite, with long hair that draped over her shoulders. Perhaps that was why he hadn't recognized her at first. There was no mistaking it now, however. Her hair might have been longer, but it was the same shade of cream. And her form, from her stance to her curves, was a shape he knew well. Most of all… the thing that made his mouth go dry and his heart stammer in his chest, was the sunset-pink eyes that blinked up at him.

"Dreamer?"

It was _her_. Except… no, it was her Edolas counterpart.

The woman blinked in confusion. "I… Ah, yes. My name is Dreamer Stratusa. But… how did you know, Your Highness?"

Erza was looking suspiciously at him from the corner of her eye. King Jellal quickly regained composure. He cleared his throat, and sat up straight in his throne.

"Your name is here, on my list," he smiled politely, and tapped the notepad in Coco's hands. The girl blinked wide-eyed at him. She opened her mouth as if to point out the fact that there was no such list, but was stopped by a harsh glance from Knightwalker. If the king was lying, he must have had a good reason.

King Jellal didn't speak for a long moment. The words evaded him as he took in the sight of her. The sensation of a familiar sting in his chest when she held his gaze. For a moment, he was in the East Forest of Earthland, sitting cross-legged next to a beautiful young woman with her legs dangling in the river. He was lost in pink-sunset eyes, wondering why he felt so lightheaded and warm. She had charmed him, yes, but the power of that spell had been enhanced by something else—the same something he felt now, returning the gaze of Edolas Dreamer.

But he was a stranger to this Dreamer. He reminded himself of this, before shifting his gaze to the child beside her.

"And who might this be?" He nodded in the direction of long, black hair. "Your daughter, I presume?"

"Huh?" Dreamer blinked. "What? No way." She elbowed the child next to her. "I told you people were going to think you're a girl if you didn't cut your hair! Come on, have some manners, say something to the king!"

The child lifted his head. Raven-black hair framed his face, but there was no denying now that he was, in fact, a boy. A boy with brilliant pink eyes.

He looked waveringly at King Jellal for a moment, before tucking his face against Dreamer's shirt.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness." Dreamer gave a strained smile. "This is Sylvester, my nephew. He's just really shy."

The king couldn't help it. He chuckled out loud, thoroughly amused by the thought of Syllestra's Edolas counterpart lacking her boisterous charm. He collected himself again. His lips turned down in a frown when it occurred to him…

"If you're here, you must have a request to make of me." He sat back in the throne, and placed his hands in his lap. "How can I help you, Miss Stratusa?"

Dreamer nodded, determination shining in her eyes. "Your Highness, our town has suffered since we lost magic power. We're located in the forest, and we've had no way to protect ourselves from the monsters. We've been working to build a wall around town to keep the creatures out, but our men can't build fast enough. Monsters keep halting our progress. On top of that, we're running out of resources to build with. If you could just…" she clenched her teeth. "If you could just send some people to help us build, or maybe some soldiers to protect our people until the project is finished… We would be eternally grateful, Your Highness!" She bowed low, showing her desperation for his help.

"I see." The king looked seriously at her. "Have you been in danger, Miss Stratusa?"

She looked up from her bowed position, confusion evident in her eyes. "Me?" She stood up straight. "Um… We're _all_ in danger, Your Highness. But personally… No, I usually stay inside town and watch Sylvester while my sister and brother-in-law work on the wall."

King Jellal closed his eyes in thought. "Knightwalker… Do we have any squadrons available?"

"Yes, Your Highness." Erza answered immediately. "Squadron 8 is available. They are more than equipped to handle protection of the townspeople while they rebuild."

"Excellent." The king opened his eyes. "Prepare them for departure, at once."

Dreamer's eyes lit up. She grasped her nephew's hand, and grinned down at him. "I told you he'd help us, Sylvester!" The little boy nodded vigorously.

"And one more thing, Erza," the king continued. "Please tell Byro to delegate my duties for a few days."

Knightwalker blinked in confused shock. "Excuse me, Your Highness?"

"I'd like to accompany Miss Stratusa back to her town, and oversee this project personally."

Dreamer cocked her head slightly, her confusion matching the red-head's.

"There is no need for that, Your Highness," Erza said, somewhat haughtily. "The squadron can handle—"

"I am afraid that's not a suggestion, Knightwalker." King Jellal chided, gently. "Please. Just do as I ask."

Erza's lips clamped shut. She nodded briskly. "Very well, I'll make preparations." She bowed low before excusing herself from the room. Her lips were pinched tight, but she made no further effort to challenge her king.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Dreamer said, "but… Is there a reason you want to visit our town?" There was suspicion etched on her otherwise gentle features.

"I want to be a king who takes personal investment in the lives of his subjects," he answered, as smoothly as though these were practiced lines. "Unless, of course, you would prefer I stay?"

She blinked several times, as if she couldn't quite comprehend being given this choice. Finally, she shook her head, causing cream hair to fall from her shoulders. "No, it's good. If the king is there, I know the job will get done. All I want is to protect our town." She smiled softly up at him—a gesture that made the breath catch in his throat. "But… just to let you know, my brother-in-law doesn't trust politicians, and he's the one heading the construction project. He won't be happy to see you."

The king smiled back, eyes tracing the shape of those delicate lips. "I'm not particularly concerned about his opinion of me." _I care only about yours,_ he thought.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty…" Coco tugged on his sleeve and tapped the notepad, indicating that he needed to move on to the next citizen.

"Ah, yes." He stretched on the throne. "Pardon me, Miss Stratusa, I have a few more citizens to see today."

"Of course," she bowed low again. "We'll be on our way. Come on, Sylvester," she put her hand on the boy's shoulder and began to turn him toward the door.

"Wait," the king called, suddenly. Dreamer looked over her shoulder, eyes strangely expectant. Or, perhaps that was wishful thinking. "If you don't mind, would you stay in the castle until I'm done here? I would like to discuss some things with you."

"Stay?" She looked uncertainly at the boy beside her. "I don't know… I told Rose that I wouldn't stay in the capital overnight…"

"I understand if you need to leave," Jellal said, carefully. His volume dropped slightly, his tone taking on an edge of longing. "But, I would be pleased if you stay."

The woman chewed her lip. Confliction burned in her eyes—the same uncertain confusion she'd had since the moment the king had called her by name. She didn't answer for a long moment. Then… "Is there free food here?"

The king chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yes, feel free to visit the kitchens and have whatever you would like. You and Sylles—" he cleared his throat. "—you and Sylvester, both."

The boy's pink eyes lit up. He tugged on his aunt's sleeve until she bent down. He whispered excitedly in her ear.

"Scones?" she asked the king.

"Oh yes, all the scones you would like."

"Alright then," she stood up straight and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I _guess_ we can stay a little longer."

"Excellent."

"Come on, let's go raid the kitchen!" She grabbed the boy's hand, then strode happily from the throne room.

King Jellal's eyes lingered on her as she left, all the way until the door had closed behind them. When she was finally out of sight, he closed his eyes and breathed a slow sigh.

"You like her, don't you, Your Highness?" Coco giggled next to him.

"Hm?" He opened his eyes. "Yes, well… She reminds me of an old friend."

"You were pretty smooth~" The girl held up the notepad she'd had the whole time. On it, she had sketched a cartoon image of the king falling off the throne with hearts in his eyes while a cartoon Dreamer waved seductively at him.

King Jellal's cheeks took some color. "I'm glad to see you take your job so seriously, Coco. Now throw that away and bring in the next citizen."

"Whatever you say, Your Majesty!"

* * *

The sun was setting by the time the king had finished his business. Despite a sore back, the mild throb of a headache, and the weight of exhaustion, he did not retire to his room to rest. Instead, there was an unusual quickness to his step as he left the throne room. Anxiety thrashed in his stomach as he considered the possibility that she had already left.

 _Easy, Mystogan_ , he coached himself. _Remember, she's not the Dreamer you left behind._

As true as these words were, they did nothing to slow his pace through the halls. He had to see her again, to hear her voice, to look in her eyes.

 _I didn't even get to say goodbye_ , he thought achingly of Earth Land's Dreamer. Well, he did write her that letter, admitting that he'd known all along that she was charming him to get sleeping pills—and… admitting to other things, as well. Admitting to feelings that he thought had been properly buried, until he saw Edolas Dreamer's face, that is.

He caught sight of a member of the kitchen staff, then waved.

"Your Majesty." The woman bowed.

"Pardon me," he nodded politely at her. "You wouldn't happen to have seen a young woman here today? She had a boy with her, with black hair. She's about this tall, with hair the color of vanilla macarons, and eyes like a cotton-candy sunset, and…" he trailed off, realizing too late that his descriptions were… more _poetic_ than usual.

The kitchen worker had an eyebrow raised. She cleared her throat, awkwardly, then gave a brief nod. "Yes, Your Highness, I know who you're talking about. They were here earlier, eating scones. My word, I've never seen a woman shovel so many scones in my life! She had to have had at least ten!"

"Where is she now?" he cut her off, too quickly.

"I think they went out to watch the sunset from one of the balconies. That way." She gestured in a direction, and the king was gone in an instant. "Goodbye, Your… Highness? Hm. Strange. Then again, he _is_ a bit odd."

It didn't take him long to find them. They were leaning against a railing facing the west, watching the clouds burst with twilight hues.

"Excuse me," he said, as he approached from behind.

Dreamer and Sylvester turned immediately. The little boy tucked his head, and hid behind his aunt's back. The woman stood straight, but bowed her head respectfully toward the king.

"Your Highness." She met his eyes.

 _How ironic_ , he thought, _that the sun should be setting behind her, making her eyes more brilliant than ever._

"Hello? Your Highness?" She snapped her fingers. "Are you okay?"

He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "Ah… yes. My apologies. It was a long day, and I am a bit… distracted."

"You said you wanted to talk to me about something?" she cut straight to the point, a bit of an edge to her tone.

"Yes," he quietly admitted.

"Sylvester, can you go into the hall for a few minutes?" She side-stepped, leaving the shy child unprotected.

He nodded vigorously, clearly hoping to escape the eyes of a stranger, before darting away.

Dreamer turned away from the king to gaze back at the sunset. He took this opportunity to join her—to stand at her side.

"Why are you coming with us?" she asked. Her lips were turned down in a frown, and she pointedly avoided looking at him. This trait was unique to this Edolas version of her. He could not remember a time when Earth Land's Dreamer had ever averted her gaze. Though, that may have been primarily due to her charm spell, which required eye-contact to work.

"I already told you," he started. "I want to be the type of king who—"

"—is involved in the lives of his citizens," she cut him off. "I remember." She turned to face him, her expression distraught. "But why now? Why us? What are you after?"

He smiled, politely, but didn't answer right away. "Truthfully?" He exhaled, slowly. "You simply remind me of an old friend, Miss Stratusa. Your town's plight stood out to me, and I thought I should help personally, out of respect for my friend's memory."

"Oh…" she ran her fingertips along the railing. "What happened to your friend?"

His smile faltered. He closed his eyes to prevent more emotion than was necessary from spilling forth. "She's gone."

"Damn…" She squeaked in surprise at her own outburst, quickly covering her mouth with her hands. "I mean! I'm sorry, I didn't know what to say, and this whole situation is so bizarre, I mean come on, the new king of the Royal City coming with _me_ back to _my_ town, because I remind him of his friend who's gone—and what does that mean, anyway, gone as in she moved to another country or gone as in dead? And I don't know how to feel about being similar to a dead person, and I'm sorry I know I'm rambling but I'm just not good with people, and everyone says I'm too straightforward, and my sister says I'll never get a boyfriend because I'm so not-charming, and gah! I didn't mean to say anything about boyfriends, I'm not saying that I… I swear, King Jellal, I'm just here for my townspeople, I didn't come to be some kind of gold-digger, so just pretend you didn't hear the whole 'boyfriend' part, besides I've had boyfriends, it's no big deal, you know? Oh my god, Your Highness, I'm so sorry, I just—"

The King laughed under his breath, the smile tugging naturally at the corners of his mouth. _This_ , he remembered. _This_ , he missed. Dreamer's nervous or excited rants, her flailing arms, the energetic spark in her eyes as she desperately tried to explain herself. He could listen to her rapid-fire sentences all evening, every evening, for the rest of his life. He might have let her continue, if not for the fact that this was a distressed rant, rather than excited blabbering.

"Mystogan," he said, suddenly.

She paused in mid-sentence, jaw hanging. "Huh?"

"Please, call me Mystogan. There's no need for formalities."

"Myst…ogan?" She tried the word out on her tongue. The sound of his old name formed by her lips was enough to make the hairs on his arms rise. "Isn't that the name you used as a bastard orphan before you revealed to everyone that you were actually Prince Jellal, next in line to the throne?"

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Bastard orphan? Hm."

"NO! Oh, god, I'm so sorry! I just called the king a bastard, oh my god, I knew someone else should have come to the capital… I should have just sent Rose, instead, she's better at talking to people, ugh, I'm gonna be sick."

"Dreamer," he reached for her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Breathe. I am glad to have met you."

She tensed at his touch, and her lips pinched tightly together. After a moment, she nodded. "Okay."

"Excellent." His arm dropped. "Then, if you don't mind, I have some things I should put in order before we leave. I would like to go in the morning."

"Morning?" She looked over to where the last rays of the sun still strained on the horizon. "I guess I don't have a choice now. Where will Sylvester and I stay?"

He nearly blurted out "my room" before he caught himself. He willed away emotional impulse, then answered. "There are many guest rooms. I will escort you to one, myself."

"Alright, but…" she chewed on her lip. "Do we get free breakfast, too?"

He laughed out loud this time. "Yes. Anything your heart desires."

"Anything?" she narrowed her eyes.

"Yes. More scones? Bacon and eggs? Mustard sandwiches? Whatever you crave, it's yours."

He waited. Hoping. Longing.

"…did you say mustard sandwiches?" she whispered.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Apologies, I meant only to use it to make a point. Of course, I don't expect you to actually want to eat—"

"No, no, no, don't take it back!" There was desperation in her eyes. "You said I could have mustard sandwiches, so you can't take it back! All the mustard sandwiches I want, right? You said it yourself, you, King Jellal, Mystogan, whatever, guy-in-charge-here, said I can have as many mustard sandwiches as I want, _right_?!"

He chuckled. "Yes, I meant it. If that's what you like, Dreamer, then you can have it."

"Ah, yes!" She clenched her fist in excitement. "Wait til I tell Rose and Res about this!"

He watched the joy exude from her. Childlike excitement, bliss. He felt so strange… It was an intoxicating nostalgia, brought forth from the knowledge that this Dreamer, too, liked mustard sandwiches. It conjured up memories of picnics, plastic containers full of bread, laughter just like this. She had been so beautiful… and she was beautiful now, too—this alternate version of her.

It was a bittersweet feeling. It filled his chest like a balloon ready to burst, but it also scratched at his eyes, drawing forth tears. Happiness, sorrow. Hope, longing. She was Dreamer, in all the right ways, but she was somehow, simultaneously, someone he'd never known before today.

"Mystogan?" Her voice pulled him out of melancholy thoughts. "Are you okay? You look… kind of sad."

"I'm fine, thank you." He nodded, with a wan smile. "Let me take you to that room."

He turned and strode back into the hall. Dreamer collected the child hiding behind a suit of armor, then scurried to follow the strange king of Edolas.

* * *

The town was south of the Royal City, about a two-hour ride on horseback. It was around noon when Mystogan, squadron 8, Dreamer and Sylvester, all arrived. The town was tucked deep in the forest, and it was evident that there had once been a magical barrier surrounding it, by the abandoned channeling rods stationed in a circle around it. It was also evident that the townspeople would stop at nothing to rise to the challenge and protect their homes. This was made clear by the number of men and women working tirelessly in the sun, building a nearly twenty-foot wall by hand. They had also constructed watch towers, from which to spot monsters on the ground and in the air.

The King descended from the carriage he'd been riding in, and held his hand out to help his companions. Dreamer ignored this gesture, and hopped out by herself. Sylvester shyly shook his head before following his aunt.

"Come with me," Dreamer said, without looking back. "You wanna talk to the person running the wall operation, right?"

Mystogan followed quickly, though admittedly _not_ out of any real interest in the wall project.

"Listen," her voice dropped slightly when he caught up. "I'm serious when I say he doesn't trust politicians. And he doesn't know that I… Well, I didn't exactly tell anyone I was going to the city for help… If you don't want your squadron kicked out of town, you'll have to play nice, okay?" She glanced at him.

"I understand."

Sylvester ran ahead, as they neared a home surrounded by flowers. His little feet picked up speed when the door opened, and his mother peered out at them.

"Mommy!" He wrapped his arms around the woman's legs.

She was older than Dreamer, with a pixie haircut and rosy cheeks. Mystogan assumed this to be the Edolas version of Dreamer's older sister.

He recalled conversations with Dreamer's Earth Land counterpart. She had been hesitant to say much about her life, until the third time she'd sought him out for a refill on sleeping pills. It had been a dark, clear night, and they sat staring at the calm sea. She'd used her eyes to coerce him into never telling her secrets to anyone, not that she had needed to. Then, she told him bits and pieces of it. Her sister's death at the hands of her brother-in-law. How she had wandered the streets alone with Syllestra for years. She had failed to mention Syllest's relation to her, but it wasn't difficult to figure out.

That had been one of his longest conversations with Dreamer. She'd poured her fears out to him, relying on the safety net of her charm to keep her safe. And he'd spilled some of his own deep thoughts for the same reason. That charm, that lie, allowed them to foster a friendship that defied the normal boundaries they had set in place for themselves. They had been so wrapped up in conversation that night, that she'd almost completely forgotten to ask for more pills. He remembered the sheepish smile, the embarrassed blush as she pleaded with him, and apologized over and over for burdening him so.

He had wanted to kiss her.

"Dreamer Stratusa, where have you _been_?!" The older sister's voice snapped him back to reality. Rose, the Edolas copy of Rosy. In this reality, she was alive and well.

"I… um… I went to get help." Dreamer answered.

"Sylvester, go take a bath." Rose crossed her arms over her chest, never dropping the accusing glare toward her sister. "You took my son and vanished overnight! Shame on you! We were so worried!"

Dreamer hung her head in shame. "Look, you were both working on the wall, and I didn't think it would take that long… I would have come home yesterday but _someone_ wanted me to stick around."

And just like that, King Jellal became part of the conversation.

"Who is…" Rose's eyes widened as Mystogan and Dreamer got closer. "Is that… Are you…?" She scanned him over, from his dark cape, to his blue hair, and the unmistakable red etching on his face. "The _king_?!"

"Yup!" Dreamer beamed brightly. "He's going to personally oversee the project, right Your Highness?"

Mystogan nodded. Instinctively, he reached for his mask to cover his exposed face, due to the uncomfortable sensation of unwanted attention—but his hand fell, when he remembered that the mask no longer existed. He couldn't hide behind false identities anymore. Like it or not, he _was_ the king.

"Dream, I…" Rose gaped in disbelief. "I can't believe _you_ actually managed to persuade him to come here." She bowed before him. "Your Highness, I have to apologize on behalf of my little sister, in case she said anything stupid. She's, um… brash, and not very good at empathizing with other people—you know, like emotionally clueless—but she has a good heart!"

"Hey! I'm standing right here!"

He gave a quiet laugh. "There's no need to apologize. I find Miss Stratusa to be quite charming."

It was true, she lacked the social tact and delicate touch of Earth Land's Dreamer, but she had her own, good-natured charm.

" _Charming_? My sister?" Rose touched her forehead as if she was feeling dizzy. "I need to sit down. Please, come inside, Your Highness."

He followed Dreamer inside the home.

"Well?" The older sister jabbed her inferior in the side. "He's your guest! Tell him to sit down, ask if he wants something to drink, you know? Good manners?"

"I'm not stupid, Rose." Dreamer huffed, then faced Mystogan. "So… There's couches and chairs—"

"I prefer to stand, thank you."

"And if you're thirsty or hungry, we have… Ugh, why am I doing this? Where's Res? Can't we just get this over with?"

"Dreamer!" Rose 'tsk'ed at her. "Your Highness, we're just humble townsfolk, but if there's anything we can get for you, it would be our pleasure."

"You have a beautiful apple tree," he said, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, he's a little spacey," Dreamer said, far too loudly to pass as a whisper.

"Do you happen to have any apples you would be willing to share?"

"Oh, yes! In fact, I was going to make apple pie tomorrow! Let me get you one, I'll be right back!" Rose disappeared in a doorway.

"Hey, I know this is all kind of awkward…" Dreamer said when they were left alone. She stared down at the floorboards, and jabbed at a crack with her shoe. "I'm sorry."

"Please, don't apologize." He smiled warmly at her. "I am enjoying every moment I get to spend with you, Dreamer."

She stared at him, the same look of confused suspicion on her face since their first encounter. "Why are you pretending to like me so much?"

"I'm not pretending," he said.

"Are you crazy?"

"I don't believe so," he answered, levelly, "though many have considered me strange due to my reclusive nature. I think a lot, and I'm not overly fond of people."

"But you're the king."

"It has taken some time to get used to, but yes. I am."

"So, you're a crazy king who likes me for no apparent reason?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that, Miss Stratusa."

The banter was playful in nature, and it might have continued, if not for the sound of the front door opening again.

"I'm home," came a deep voice.

"Oh no, it's him! Look cool!"

"Daddy!" Sylvester's voice echoed from down the hall. The child ran and leaped into the arms of the approaching man.

"Hey, buddy!" The man squeezed his son tight, and let out a happy laugh.

He was tall, with a proud and straight stature. His hair was short, spiky, and black, with one yellow streak along the side.

"Where have you been? Your mother was worried sick, you know?"

"Auntie took me to have scones," came the meek response.

"Yeah? Is she here?"

"Mhm." He pointed toward the living room, where Dreamer and Mystogan stood.

"Hey, kid, you can't just leave with my son in the middle of the—" He stepped forward. Yellow eyes scanned over Dreamer's companion. "Are you who I think you are?"

"Res," Dreamer stepped between them with a nervous laugh. "You're probably thinking this is the king of the Royal City standing in your living room! And, well… you're right! But I can—"

"Dreamer, I told you we don't need help!" He turned on her, baring teeth. "I can take care of my friends and family without some government fraud's help."

Mystogan cleared his throat.

"It's not like that, Resmond! He's good, I swear! He sent a whole squadron to help you with the project! And supplies, too!"

"I don't need his help, sis." His voice was stern. "There are only two things I love in this world. First is my family, and second is my home. And I swore I would do whatever it takes to protect this town with my own hands! How could you get a politician involved, who will probably use our land to churn a profit? Dreamer, you should have stayed home!"

"You're just being proud!" she countered. "We needed help! You said it yourself, that you were running out of supplies!"

"We could have gotten help from another town, we didn't need him! He needs to go—"

"Sh." A feminine voice hushed the man, as arms went around his waist. Rose pressed her lips to his neck. "Would you at least talk to our _king_ before incurring the wrath of the capital, my love?" She held out a shiny red apple to Mystogan, who gratefully took it.

"I understand your hesitation," the king said, humbly. "It seems that you care greatly for your friends."

"That's right." Resmond nodded, seriously. The cutting edge had loosened on his tone, though, since Rose had embraced him.

"I know the feeling," Mystogan quietly said. "I feel just as strongly for my friends. I assure you, I wish only to help your town. I will make no profit from this venture. I want only to serve the citizens of Edolas."

"That's not true," Resmond shot back, lightning eyes piercing through amber. "If you just wanted to help, then why come here yourself? The king wouldn't leave his throne like that unless he was personally invested in something. So, what is it? What do you want?"

Mystogan's eyes naturally flitted to Dreamer. She narrowed her own at this insinuation.

"I knew it!" Resmond flailed dramatically, while his wife struggled to calm him down by massaging his shoulders. "He probably wants to build some temple or something on our land! I knew he had ulterior motives!"

Mystogan chuckled. He raised his hands defensively. "Very well, I will refrain from building my pool resort on your hill." He glanced at Dreamer again. "On one condition."

"Look, he's blackmailing us now," Resmond pouted.

"I would like to spend the evening with Miss Stratusa," he continued, locking eyes with her.

"You… _what_?" Dreamer's face contorted in further surprise.

"Why?" Resmond, Rose, and Dreamer all said in unison.

"I simply want to spend time with you. That's all."

"Careful," Resmond muttered. "He's probably just trying to collect you for a harem—OW, Rose, that hurt!"

"Sh!" his wife hissed. "Enough with your conspiracy theories!"

"I thought you loved my conspiracy theories," he whined.

"I love _you_ ," she giggled. "I _tolerate_ your ridiculous theories."

Husband and wife shared a kiss, while Sylvester hung onto his dad's leg. It seemed that this version of Dreamer's family was the one she had always dreamed of. Mystogan wished, momentarily, that he could tell her.

"Spend the evening…" Edolas Dreamer still couldn't comprehend. "Doing what?"

"You could take me on a tour of town," he gave the premeditated line.

"But I—"

"Come on, Dream," her older sister coaxed. "Good manners, remember?"

"Well, yeah, but…" she flicked her gaze back and forth between the king's eyes. "I… Okay?"

"Thank you," Mystogan said, sincerity in his tone.

"Alright, I guess I'll… see you guys later?" Dreamer frowned at her family.

"We're just going to let her walk out with the king?" Resmond snapped. "If something happens to her, I'll… I'll…" His eyes were beginning to water.

"Oh, stop being so emotional, sweetheart~ She'll be fine. I think he likes her."

"We're LEAVING," Dreamer said loudly, to tune this out. "Come on, Mystogan, let's get out of here."

Mystogan nodded at the couple. "Thank you for your hospitality, and the apple." He smiled. "I truly hope you'll consider allowing my soldiers to help with your project, Resmond." With these parting words, he hurried after Dreamer.

* * *

"So, um…" Dreamer walked a few steps ahead, dragging her feet. "There's a park over there. Town hall is that way… I don't know what exactly you want to see."

 _Just you_ , he thought.

"There's kind of a cool river that goes through town," she said.

"I like rivers."

"Right…" She sighed, then changed course. She led him North, to a wooden bridge that stretched over a river with purple water. "This is Lavender River, which used to intersect with a waterfall from the floating river, and… Oh. You're the king. You probably already know this stuff." She sighed, and buried her hands in her pockets.

Jeans. Earth Land Dreamer would never have worn jeans. Skirts or leggings, but never such a harsh fabric.

She stared at the water and chewed on her lip. Occasionally, she would glance over at him, while he stared at her. This went on for a few minutes, time marked by the slow moving of the river below their feet.

Then, suddenly.

"Okay, cut it out," she snapped. She turned to face him, pretty face turned down in a scowl. "Stop pretending to like me."

Mystogan was taken aback, but maintained perfect composure. He smiled gently. "I already told you, Dreamer. I'm not pretending."

"I'm not her."

The sentence hung strangely in the air, like fishing line cast into the river below, not quite long enough to reach the rippling waves.

"I'm not sure what you—"

"I'm not stupid, okay?" She crossed her arms indignantly over her chest, and stepped threateningly close to him. "You know I'm friends with a guy from that dark guild, Fairy Tail? His name's Piper, and he told me all about what really happened with that alternate dimension stuff. Something about how there's another world with copies of all of us, and you used to travel there all the time, right?"

His normally refined composure was slipping. He swallowed a lump in his throat, formed by this confrontation.

Dreamer saw this weakness, and pressed herself further forward, standing on her toes to get more evenly in his face.

"You've got me confused with someone else." Pink eyes set in a glare. "Obviously, you used to have some kind of thing with this… _other_ me. And now she's gone, and you think you can project her onto me because we look the same." Her scowl lifted slightly, reflecting a new emotion. Hurt? "That's pretty screwed up, isn't it? Pretending to like someone when you don't even know her?"

His eyes were wide, a slight flush of shame on his cheeks.

"I don't care about how close you were with that other Dreamer. You and me… We're strangers. We're not even friends! So, cut it out! Back off, okay? I don't care if you're the king or whatever! You still don't have the right to… to look at me like _that_! With those needy puppy-dog eyes, okay?"

Mystogan winced. He made no effort to back away from her, even though she was still braced offensively in his personal space. Instead, he lowered his head, closed his eyes, and released a breath.

"You're absolutely right," he murmured. "I… am deeply sorry, Miss Stratusa."

She plopped back down on her heels with a huff.

"I didn't realize I was… projecting my…" another sigh. "I'm sorry. I had never considered it from your perspective. I'm sure I've offended you. I was thoughtless. I… ah. Usually I am more levelheaded than this. I suppose you reminded me of her so much that I lost my clarity for a moment. I cannot express how sincerely sorry I am." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Whatever, it's fine." She looked away from him. "As long as you get the point. You can back off now." She put her hands on the bridge railing, officially cutting off conversation with him.

Mystogan stood there for a long moment, his head still hanging. He wished, as in Earth Land, that he was invisible. That he could cast a sleeping spell and disappear, or huddle under layers upon layers of clothing, until his identity was a mystery. Anything to slink away from this moment.

"If you don't mind…" he said, slowly. "I would still like to stay and oversee the construction project."

"Seriously?" She scoffed. "Why? You only came here to try and get with me."

"That's not true," he countered. He finally mustered the courage to look in her eyes again, hoping to communicate his sincerity. "I was not lying when I said that I aim to be a king of the people. I will be true to my word, and see this through to the end. That is… assuming I am welcome."

She tapped her fingers on the railing before giving an exasperated sigh.

"I don't care," she said. "If Resmond says you can stay, then it's fine by me."

"…Thank you."

Her fingers continued to tap, as another awkward silence dragged on. "Listen, I'm sorry if I was rude, I just… you know."

"I do." He nodded. "It cannot be pleasant to be compared to your own shadow."

"Yeah…" Her shoulders slouched a bit. He watched as she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. There was still a lingering expression of sorrow there, perhaps even a trace of longing. It was as if she had hoped to be seen by him for who she was. As if she had genuinely valued his opinion, at least somewhat.

He swallowed again, when her expression dredged up another wave of guilt.

"Dream—" He cleared his throat. "Miss Stratusa… If your brother-in-law allows me to stay, would you…?"

She looked at him with wide-eyes.

"Would you be opposed to spending some time with me in the evenings?"

"I already told you, I'm _not_ her!" Her hands flailed to emphasize the point, and her eyes shimmered with almost-tears.

"I know," he said, quickly. "Is it a sin to want to get to know _you_?" He pleaded with amber eyes. "I owe you that much, Miss Stratusa. You were right. You and I _are_ strangers. Is it wrong to want to remedy that?"

"That depends." She pursed her lips in frustration. "Do you just want to get to know me because of her?"

"No," he said, honestly. "I see how I erred before. Regardless of any relationship I may or may not have had with Earth Land's Dreamer, I am genuinely interested in you and your family. I can see that you all have pure hearts, and a certain ferocious passion about you. If possible, I would like to earn friendship with you all."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly still suspicious of his motives. "I guess… there's nothing wrong with that." She averted her gaze, and her cheeks seemed more pink than usual. "We can hang out, _if_ Res lets you stay." She glanced at him again. "And if you promise not to be all pushy and flirty with me again, okay? We can be _friends_."

"Yes, of course." He nodded, finally managing to smile again. "I cannot apologize enough, Miss Stratusa."

Her hostile posture evaporated completely. She smiled warmly back. "You don't have to apologize anymore, Mystogan. I forgive you. And you can call me Dreamer." She held her hand out. "To friendship?"

He chuckled, then shook her outstretched hand. "I hope so, Dreamer."

She released his hand, shoved her own hands in her pockets, and turned away from him.

His heart was heavy after this conversation, but he was also grateful. He was glad to have been put in his place. He reminded himself that this Dreamer was her own person. She may have shared traits with her Earth Land version, but ultimately, she was a separate entity.

He placed any attraction he felt for her at bay, far out of reach. Though, he could not deny that the sight of her hair swaying in the wind, and the curve of her hips, and the pink tinge to her cheeks still elicited warmth from deep inside of him—he chose to respect her, to stifle such feelings.

* * *

With a great deal of persuasion and some whispers in his ear by Rose, Resmond was ultimately convinced to let the King and his squadron stay. Though Rose offered a room for Mystogan to stay in, he politely declined, and opted to stay with his squadron. During the day, he accompanied a reluctant Resmond out to the wall. They discussed strategies to keep the town safe, and worked together, laying brick and beams. Each afternoon, he asked Dreamer if she wanted to do something together. She was nearly as hesitant to trust him as Resmond, at first, but she agreed.

This pattern continued for four days. On the fifth day, Coco ran from the Royal City to deliver a message to the king. Well, it was less of a message and more of a desperate plea for him to come home before Knightwalker burned the city to the ground. Mystogan promised to leave that evening.

Now, Mystogan stood in the living room, hand extended to Resmond. The other man grinned, then shook it.

"Are you sure you don't want to return to the city with me?" The King asked.

"I appreciate the offer," Resmond said, gratitude shining in his lightning eyes, "but I'm needed here."

"Yes, I knew what you would choose." Mystogan released his hand, but kept smiling. "Your kindness and devotion are admirable traits, Resmond. I've learned from you."

"You're not half bad, yourself, Your Highness." Resmond beamed.

Heels clacked on the wood floor as Rose walked from the kitchen to join them. "Leaving already, Misty?" She gave a long-lashed wink.

Mystogan gave a harassed sigh. "I wish Dreamer had not come up with such a degrading nickname."

"It's a sign of affection," Rose promised, "Like how she calls Res an idiot."

The man deadpanned.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Rose." Mystogan bowed slightly before the woman. "You have been incredibly kind, and your apple pie is exquisite."

"Which reminds me!" She walked back into the kitchen and returned with a basket full of apples. "Take some home with you, and plant some seeds in the royal garden!"

"I'll make sure to do just that." He nodded in thanks.

"Excuse me," a tiny squeak of a voice called from around the corner. There, Sylvester was leaning out from the dark hallway, hair half-shielding his face. "Can I… say goodbye too?"

"Yes, come on, son." Resmond beckoned him over.

The boy approached slowly, with his head down. He stood awkwardly in front of Mystogan for a long moment.

"Your Highness… Um… Thank you for… talking to me and… reading me a story yesterday…" He wrung his hands in nervousness. "Can you… Will you come see us again?" He finally met the man's eyes, his own pink irises wide with curiosity.

"If your parents will have me, then of course." Mystogan affectionately patted his head. The boy smiled before running back down the hall, out of sight.

"Well, then." Mystogan straightened up. "I suppose I should…" He lingered. There was someone he hadn't said goodbye to yet. Still… She knew he was leaving, and if she wasn't out here, then perhaps she didn't want to see him off.

"Hey." Her voice was a sweet relief. Dreamer walked from the hall, directly past all of them, to the front door. "Come on."

"Dreamer?" Mystogan started toward her, holding his basket of apples.

"Let's hang out one more time before you leave," she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Alright," he joined her. "I would like that very much."

He waved to Resmond's family once more, before following Dreamer outside.

"Would you like to sit at the park again?" Mystogan asked.

"No, let's go somewhere more private." She walked ahead.

"…Private?" He trailed behind.

She made no effort to explain herself, just walked toward the gates of town, which Resmond and Mystogan had worked hard to construct. Out, on a pebbled path through the forest, to the shore of the same river they'd stood over on their first day here. Now, they sat near the shore, surrounded by trees and wildlife, away from the bustle of town.

Neither of them spoke. Mystogan offered her an apple from his basket, which she took. They sat in silence, but for the munching of red apples and the sound of the water.

He was the one who broke the silence, when his apple was finished and he sat the core beside him. "I've enjoyed my time here," he said, with a smile.

"Yeah…" she sat her partially eaten apple aside as well. "It's been nice."

"Dreamer… If you ever find yourself in the city, please feel free to pay me a visit. I will gladly make time for you."

"Thanks." She met his gaze. "I think I'll do that."

More silence.

"Very well, then. I should—"

"Mystogan?" She cut him off before he could stand. The expression in her eyes was strange, unreadable. "Do you still like me? Now that you know me, I mean…"

He crossed his legs, getting comfortable again. "Yes, Dreamer, I do. It's true, some things still remind me of your Earth Land counterpart, but I can say with confidence that I've grown fond of this reality's Dreamer, as well. You're bold, straightforward, and still curious and kindhearted. I stand by my initial statement. I think you are quite charming."

She blushed. "I like you, too. You're pretty great, for a bastard orphan, I guess."

He chuckled. "I'm truly pleased that we were able to move beyond our first impressions. I'm happy to have made a friend."

"Yeah…" She looked away. She plucked blades of grass with her fingertips, and chewed her lip in thought. "Do you… believe in things like fate or destiny or god, whatever it might be called?"

He pondered this. Not the question so much as why she had chosen to ask it. He noted the tightness in her shoulders, the way she avoided his gaze, the rosy coloring of her cheeks.

 _She's beautiful._

He chastised himself for the thought, then answered carefully. "I do."

"Do you think that maybe…" she looked at him. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, curiosity, uncertainty. "Maybe the reason you met that other Dreamer was so that one day you and me could meet and…" she trailed off. "Never mind."

"I think…" he tentatively scooted closer to her, careful with every motion. "It's very possible."

"Really?" She cocked her head, and cream hair fell from her shoulder.

"Yes. Truthfully…" his eyes flicked back and forth between hers. "I think that… No matter how many versions of reality there might be, be it two or two hundred—no matter how many versions of me, or of you there could be..." His tone brimmed with passion. "I believe I will always be inexplicably drawn to you, Dreamer."

Her eyes widened. Her lip trembled. "That's… pretty cringey, you know?"

"I suppose it is." He gave a quiet chuckle. "I apologize." He stood, at last, and wiped off his pants. "Shall we?" He extended his hand.

She nodded, then took his hand to get to her feet. After she had righted herself, however, a strange sound echoed through the treetops.

"Oh no, it's a monster!" She looked back and forth at the branches overhead, listening for the screech to sound again.

Then, a second time, the shrill screech of a winged creature calling in the air, followed by the flapping of wings. A feathered monster plunged from the sky, two sets of wings outstretched and talons out. It swooped down toward them, beak open to release its cry.

"Dreamer!" He leapt forward and threw his arms around her. He pushed her harshly to the ground, out of reach of the creature. He shielded her, exposing his own back to its claws.

The monster hissed, then ascended through the canopy, back into the sky.

"Dreamer, are you okay?" Mystogan stared down at her, worry etched on his face.

"Yeah, I'm not hurt." She breathed heavily. "What about you? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm…" He paused in mid-sentence. It was only now that he seemed to notice the position they were in. She was on her back, beneath him, cream hair sprawled on the grass like a halo. He was above her, forearms straining to support his weight, his shadow eclipsing her face. The sight of her beneath him like this, her lips parted, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths… He forgot what he had been preparing to say. Instead, he released a hushed word, seeping with desire. "Perfect."

He stared at her a moment longer, eyes flicking back and forth between sunsets. His gaze drifted to her lips, which had never seemed glossier, more _welcoming._ They caused his own lips to part, his tongue to dance.

"Oh." He took captive the thoughts he was having, remembering his promise to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" He started to lean back, but she reached up and gripped his collar, holding him down.

"Did you ever kiss her?" she asked, as she studied his face.

"Kiss… her?" He tried to make sense of her words, but rational thought was evading him.

"The other me," she clarified. Her fingers kneaded at his collar. "Did you ever kiss her?"

"No." He swallowed. "I would have liked… I mean, I…" He cleared his throat. "No. We never kissed."

"Do you want to kiss _me_?" Her eyelashes fluttered.

"Mavis, _yes_ ," he said, far too quickly and with far too much enthusiasm.

She raised an eyebrow and mouthed 'Mavis?' before shaking her head. "Okay…" One of her hands crept upward, her thumb moving to trace the red marking below his eye. "Then, kiss me."

"But I…" he swallowed dryly. "You told me not to be pushy or flirty—"

She didn't let him finish. She tugged him harshly down, then captured his mouth in a kiss. He let out a sound from the base of his chest—a sigh or a moan, or a hybrid of the two. His lips moved naturally against hers, responding to instinct—or perhaps to a deeply-rooted desire, a fantasy that spanned several years, now finding its release.

He lowered himself to cover her more fully, as he tangled his fingers in her hair. He dipped her head back further, to gain more access to her mouth, to deepen the kiss. She responded to every motion, welcoming his passion, inviting him in.

"Dreamer…" he breathed her name in between kisses, with a quaver in his voice.

It was every ancient fantasy being fulfilled. Every thought of tasting her, the Earth Land Dreamer—but it was something more, too. He understood, now. He understood that the Earth Land Dreamer was gone. She existed in her own reality, likely pursing her own passions, maybe even a lover. But this wasn't Earth Land. This was Edolas, _his_ reality. And in this reality, he had _his_ Dreamer. She wasn't a fantasy, beyond reach. She was _here_ , she was _now_.

She was sighing against his hair, whispering his name, asking him to stay a little longer.

"I can't…" he whispered, lips lingering on her neck. "I have to go back to the city."

"I'll come see you," she promised. "Soon."

"Please, do." He gazed down at those sunset eyes. "I want to know everything about you, Dreamer. I want to learn everything there is to know, even if it takes me a lifetime. _Especially_ , if it takes me a lifetime."

"H-Hey now," she blushed. "You're not proposing, are you? Slow down, Mr. Poet, I just think that we can… maybe see more of each other… sometimes."

"Yes." He kissed her cheek once more. "I look forward to it, Dreamer."

Edolas Dreamer. _His_ Dreamer.


	81. EC-6 The Midnight Before Christmas

**A/N: Hello, friends! Long time, no see! I'm sorry for the long delay in posting. As you can see, I'm about two months behind schedule here. This chapter was *supposed* to be done by Christmas. Unfortunately, I went through a major life transition within the past few months, and haven't had much time to work. And you guys know me. I won't post unless I have a comfortable amount of cushion to work with. Hence the wait for the sequel.**

 **To reward your patience! Here is an extra long Christmas EC~ Also, for all intents and purposes, this scene _is_ canon to my fic. Not just fluffy filler. If you want a sneak peek into what life looks like, and will continue to look like, for Macbeth and Syllestra now that Dreamer is gone, then look no further! I've also been toying with ideas regarding Macbeth's past, pre-Tower of Heaven, and any family he may or may not have out there. Tell me what you think! **

**Again, thank you for your patience! I intend to post the prologue for the sequel as one of these upcoming EC's, so stay tuned! And in the meantime, enjoy this feels trip. It's been a while, so do drop a review and tell me you're still out there enjoying the story! Thank you!**

 **(Oh! And this chapter is broken into titled sections. The titles are all the names of various Christmas songs!)**

* * *

 _December 15, X784: Fairy Tail begins its S-Class Promotion Trial on Tenrou Island_

 _December 16, X784: Tenrou Island disappears_

 _December 19, X784: The Magic Council delivers the news to the remaining Fairy Tail members._

 _December 20, X784: Fairy Tail sends a team to search for its missing members_

 _December 23, X784:_ **Today's Date**

 _December 25, X784: Christmas Day_

* * *

 **Please Come Home For Christmas**

It was an icy night in Magnolia. The surface of the river was frozen over. Patches of dark ice shadowed sections of pavement. Men and women headed home late from work, shivered under layers of coats, gloves, and boots. Their breaths were white wisps, smothered by the cold. Cold and dark… and silent. Eerily silent, as though the town felt the suffering of its heart.

The lights were out in a small home—all but the dim glow of a penguin-shaped lamp in a child's room. Up the three concrete steps to the blue door. Beyond a low-ceilinged living room, cluttered with children's toys and books. Further, on beige-colored carpet, stained in one spot by spilled grape-juice. Through a four-paneled, white door, cracked just slightly to make for a silent escape. Over a fuzzy pink rug, past a plastic vanity covered in glittery makeup products, to a bed with more pillows and stuffed animals than should reasonably fit on the fluffy comforter. Tucked beneath the blankets to shield from the winter chill, freshly brushed hair as black as raven feathers. A yawning girl, eyelids heavy.

Next to her, his weight dipping the bed slightly, was a man with black and white colored hair, plum lipstick, and a dreamcatcher necklace.

"Macbeth…?" Syllest whispered, pink eyes as big and round as ever.

"Hm?" He adjusted his weight on the edge of the bed, propping one leg up.

"Do you think Mommy will be home soon?" Her eyes were searching, pleading.

He looked down at the carpet, then studied the laces of his boot. "…Yes. They'll find her."

"How?" she asked, little fingers kneading the stuffed animal in her arms.

"Pops is looking for her," he said.

"And he's the best finder in the world," Syllest nodded. This brought her some comfort, but her fingers still tugged nervously on the ear of the bunny.

Macbeth waited. He knew this child well enough to know when more questions were bubbling below the surface. He knew by the twitch on the corner of her mouth, and the downward gaze of her eyes.

"Do you think they'll be home for Christmas?" This was a barely audible whisper, almost as silent as the wisps of breathing in the cold.

"Christmas." The word was heavy on his tongue.

"I always have Christmas with Mommy, and Grandpa, and Uncle Piper, and Auntie Mira, and Elfman…" There was a tremble in her voice. "But they're all gone, and Christmas Eve is tomorrow…" Tears began to gather on her eyelashes.

His shoulders tensed at the sight of her near tears. He raised a hand, then awkwardly tucked short strands of hair behind her ear. "Don't cry," he said, hoping his voice sounded comforting and not like a demand.

"There won't be a Christmas this year." Her lips trembled. Silent tears breached the barrier and rolled down her face.

He frowned, eyes following the trail of tiny tears. He stroked her hair. "That's not true," he said, suddenly. "If they're not home by Christmas…" he paused, reflecting on the words before he spoke them. "We'll have Christmas together. You and me."

She blinked, then rubbed her eyes on the blanket. "Really?"

He nodded, slowly.

"I thought you didn't like Christmas, Macbeth," she said, eyes widening, her curiosity taking over.

A hint of an uncomfortable cringe touched the corner of his lips. "It's not that I hate it, Syllest." He moved his hand from her hair, to rest on her shoulder. "It's…" he looked away, so that she wouldn't interpret his growing scowl as being directed toward her. "I haven't had a Christmas since I was even younger than you are."

"Because you were locked up in that scary tower?" she asked. He didn't answer, so she pulled the blankets down further from her face so she could prop herself up, the excitement becoming too much to contain under cuddly sheets. "Did you have Christmas before you got locked up there?"

"Does it matter?" he countered. He felt the snap in his tone, then apologetically squeezed her shoulder.

"Of course it does, silly!" she sat up. "Every little kid should have Christmas!"

He withheld a bitter laugh. "Only the fortunate children are lucky enough to experience trivial traditions of 'peace and love.'" He gazed down at her once more. His eyes softened. "You are fortunate, Syllestra. There are many good people who love you. That's why you've always had Christmas."

"No one ever loved _you_ , Macbeth?" She cocked her head to the side. "Even when you were a baby?"

He sighed, clearly becoming harassed by the personal questions. "Enough," he said. It wasn't a snap, but it was a clear command. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she slumped back down into the sheets. "What do you and your mother usually do for Christmas?" he asked, shifting the subject back on track.

"Well…" she tapped her chin in thought. "She always decorates! There's lights everywhere and a Christmas tree with a star and lots of omelets—"

"Ornaments."

"—and presents under the tree and sometimes she even puts popcorn in the tree, except one time I let in the stray cat from outside and it ate the popcorn and tore down the tree and I was grounded for the rest of my life." She stared at the ceiling while she rambled. "On Christmas Eve me and Mom open our special Christmas Eve presents, but it's always pajamas! They're matching pajamas so we can be twinsies on Christmas morning—so we put on our jammies and then we put the cookies that we made earlier—I forgot to say about the cookies—and we put them out with a glass of milk for the ghost of Wizard Saint Nikolaus, and I write my Christmas wish and leave it out for him too. Then we go to bed and we wake up and there's more presents! Mom and Auntie Mira drink coffee and I have to wait until everyone else gets here so we can open presents! I open them and play with my toys, and then we go outside and me and Romeo build a snowman—we always build a snowman even if there's no snow, cuz Gray always makes snow for us if there's none on the ground. Then we go to the guild hall and have a big Christmas dinner! Then, me and Mommy and Auntie Mira come home and we sit in front of the fireplace and we drink Auntie Mira's best hot cocoa, and sometimes we listen to people singing Christmas songs or we sing together or… I don't know because I always fall asleep… Anyways, that's what we always do for Christmas!"

Macbeth nodded, a look of serious concentration on his face. "You… really do _all_ those things? Every year?"

"Yep!" she nodded vigorously. "So, if Mommy and Uncle Piper and Grandpa Jezran and Auntie Mira don't come home in time for Christmas, then you'll do all those things with me?"

His red eyes swirled with dread. With pursed lips, he gave a forced nod. "…Yes."

"Wow!" She tossed the blanket aside so she could throw her arms around his waist in a surprise embrace. He inhaled sharply, every muscle getting tense at the contact. "I'm so happy you're my dad now, Macbeth."

 _Dad. Father._

He relaxed. A tiny smile tugged on his plum lips. He returned the child's embrace. "Don't cry anymore, Syllest," he said, quietly. "I'm not your mom, but… I can still give you a special Christmas."

She was satisfied by this statement. She let out a little yawn, released her grip on him, then cuddled back under the blankets. He pulled them snugly to her chin.

"Goodnight, Dad," she whispered, closing her eyes at last.

"…Goodnight."

Her bed creaked when he stood up. He walked to the partially opened door, and lingered by the lamp. "On or off?" he touched the switch.

"Off," she said. "I'm not scared of stupid things like the dark!"

He chuckled, then turned out the lights. He supposed it didn't make much sense for a child who had faced real demons to be afraid of fake ones lurking in the shadows. What is darkness compared to the fear that one might never see their family again?

 _Family._

He lingered in the hallway, enveloped in darkness.

 _Dreamer, please come home._

* * *

 **A Christmas Long Ago**

"You're going to _what_?"

Macbeth stood in the guild hall, hands buried in his pockets, facing Erik. To the right stood Kinana, watching this exchange. In the kitchen next door, Syllest sat eating breakfast, safely out of earshot.

"I think that's a really sweet idea, Macbeth!" Kinana smiled at him.

"Thank you," Macbeth said, quietly, without looking at her.

"Don't encourage him, Kina!" Erik had one sharp canine bared, and a twitching eyebrow. "You really think you're gonna throw some magical Christmas for that kid? Do you even know what Christmas is about?"

Macbeth met his harsh expression with emotionless silence.

"Let me refresh your memory," Erik continued…

"It was the second Trade War. Feudal lords fought to maintain economic power, but were being pushed back by Fioran mage forces. The enemy soldiers knew that they couldn't stand a chance against magic, so they pulled one of the most heinous stunts in the history of the war. They razed down three villages, burning everything—men, women, even animals."

"I didn't realize you were such a history buff, Erik," Macbeth remarked, a snide sting to his words.

Erik ignored the comment completely. He continued, with just as much severity in his voice as before, eyes still narrowed.

"They killed everyone except for the children. Thirty-seven kids. Twelve boys, twenty-five girls. They kidnapped thirty-seven children and took them back to a military camp as hostages. It turned the tide of the war in their favor.

"There was a Fioran soldier by the name of Christopher Nikolaus. He heard about the kid hostages, and proposed a direct assault on the camp to rescue the children. His superiors shot him down. Nikolaus wouldn't take no for an answer, however. He, alone—without the support of the army or anyone else—went to the military camp. He disguised himself in the red uniform of the enemy soldiers, snuck inside, and found the holding cell where they were keeping the kids.

"This part might be legend, but the story goes that the kids were afraid to leave with Nikolaus because he was dressed as one of their captors. They say that, in order to win their trust, Nikolaus promised each kid that he would grant them one wish, if they were good and followed him. Apparently, this tactic worked, and Christopher Nikolaus rescued all thirty-seven of those kids by sneaking them into the pine forest behind the camp.

"Supposedly, after each of the kids was reunited with whatever family they had left, Nikolaus followed through on his promise. He started granting the wishes of those kids. He learned magic, joined a guild, delivered the things they'd asked for one-by-one. Legend has it that he was able to grant the wishes of all but one of those children. It was a little girl, who wished for peace on Earth Land. He wasn't able to grant her wish in his lifetime, but he worked toward it for the rest of his life, during which he was venerated to Wizard Saint Nikolaus.

"They say that Nikolaus's ghost continues to work toward that goal, and that he will not rest until there's peace on Earth Land and good will toward men. And that, in the meantime, he'll keep granting wishes to children in need."

"Wow." Kinana blinked at him in awe. "I didn't know any of that."

Macbeth looked far less impressed. He stared dauntlessly back at Erik. "So?" His red eyes swirled with surreal calm. "What's your point?"

"Doesn't that hit a little close to home, Midnight?" Erik crossed his arms over his chest. "Kidnapped kids and wishes? Prayers?"

"It reminds you of the tower." Macbeth stated.

"Yeah, except in _our_ story, most of those kids were never rescued. Most of their prayers were never answered." There was fury in his tone. "It's all bullshit."

Macbeth never flinched. "That's completely irrelevant to what I'm trying to do here."

"Really?" Erik scoffed. "What _right_ do we have to participate in a holiday like this, Midnight?" He used the old name a second time. "It's a _good_ holiday for _good_ kids with happy lives. We don't deserve to have any part of it."

"We're not kids anymore," Macbeth responded, smoothly.

"No, we're not." The poison-slayer's eyes darkened. "But think about the _other_ kids. The ones we turned a blind eye to in the tower. The ones whose families we murdered under Brain. Kids who won't have Christmases because of _us_."

Now, Macbeth's expression shifted.

"I know you never wanted to get your hands dirty with children, but how many parents did you kill? How many kids' lives did you screw over? I bet it was a hell of a lot more than thirty-seven. And you think you deserve to—"

 _SMACK._

The red imprint of a hand glowed on Erik's cheek. Macbeth's hands were still snugly in his pockets, however. It was Kinana whose face was in a disapproving scowl, her fingers still splayed open.

"That's _enough_ , Erik!"

He blinked at her in total shock. He touched the place where she'd hit him.

"We get it!" she continued, anger and sorrow in her eyes. "Christmas is hard for you! You have a lot of hurt and a lot of guilt, but that's no reason for you to take it out on Macbeth!"

He opened his mouth to retaliate, but she cut him off.

"If you actually _listened,_ you'd know that Macbeth isn't doing this for himself! He wants to do something good for a little girl who just lost her family, which is more than you're doing, _Cobra_!"

The tips of Erik's ears turned red in shame.

"It's not about having the _right_ to do anything," she continued, a little gentler now. "It's just about doing something good for someone. Macbeth knows it's not going to make up for all the lives he's taken, but it's _something_ , isn't it? He cares about her, and he wants to make her happy, and that's a lot more noble than walking around pissed at everyone, isn't it?"

Erik looked away, thoroughly scolded.

"To answer your question," Kina looked at Macbeth now. "Yes, we'll watch Syllest while you prepare. Won't we, Erik?"

The poison-slayer glanced over at Macbeth. Their eyes locked for a brief moment. Then, without a word, Erik walked away.

Kinana sighed as she watched him leave. She looked back at Macbeth, some guilt on her face. "Do you think I went too far?"

"No," Macbeth answered.

"Look, I'm sorry." Kina bowed her head slightly. "He's… dealing with some things. He didn't mean any of that."

"Don't apologize," Macbeth shook his head. "Just talk to him. That's all he ever needs."

Her cheeks colored slightly. She nodded, determination gleaming in her eyes. "You can count on me~ Now, you better get started! It's already Christmas Eve!"

Macbeth nodded, turned on the heel of his boot, and walked directly into the kitchen. Syllestra sat drawing smiley faces with ketchup on her plate.

"Hi!" She waved when he walked in.

"Syllestra." He crouched next to her. "I have some things I need to do. Stay with Erik and Kinana, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir!" She saluted.

"Syllestra," his tone darkened. "I'm serious. No sneaking away, or I'll burn your Christmas presents."

She stared wide-eyed at him, fear flickering in pink eyes. "Y-You wouldn't really do that, would you?"

"Do you want to find out?" he said, darkly.

"No! I promise I'll be good!"

"Good." He straightened up. "If you get bored…" He cocked his head. His braid swayed. "Then you can work on making a star for the Christmas tree. With your magic."

"Really?!" she gasped out loud. "I'm allowed to use my magic?!"

"I'm asking you to," he said.

"You got it!" She fist-pumped the air.

Macbeth nodded, ruffled her hair a bit, and left.

* * *

 **All I Want For Christmas Is You**

He stood in front of Dreamer and Mira's townhouse, burrowed in his hoodie against a cold breeze. Red eyes flicked to the left, then to the right. Every house on the street was decorated with lights and wreaths and stupid-looking lawn ornaments. All but one.

How had he not even noticed this until now?

He took Dreamer's key from his pocket and ascended the steps to the door. Inside, in the welcoming heat—though perhaps no closer to his objective. He was somehow to decorate an entire home in only a few hours. _Him,_ the Night Terror, with no experience in this area whatsoever. He didn't even know what sort of shops would sell things like that. Where did the neighbors get their lights? Would such places be open on Christmas Eve? And it wasn't as though he had a surplus of jule, either, what with being temporarily unable to take on jobs while acting as a stay-at-home mom for Syllest.

He stood in the living room and thought. If he knew Dreamer as well as he thought he did, then he knew that she planned things like this in advance. Holiday/celebratory things. Well, so long as they involved Syllestra, anyway. Mira also seemed to take festivities seriously. And their team left on December 15th. Surely, with Christmas only ten days away, the girls had made plans, bought things, wrapped presents… Then again, they hadn't decorated the house, so maybe he was giving them too much credit.

Still… He closed his eyes and tried to place himself in Dreamer's head. If she bought presents for Syllest, and didn't want the girl to find them, where would she put them?

He eyed the key ring in his hand. There were two keys attached to it. One to the front door. One to Dreamer's room, which she had insisted he keep locked. If there were Christmas items to be found at all, they would be there, in her bedroom. Likely stuffed in the closet.

He walked the hall to her room. He paused, remembering the threats she'd left him with.

" _Macbeth, if I get home and I think for one second that you've been in my room, snooping through my things then… I'll tell Gajeel what really happened to his favorite guitar pick."_

He fought an inadvertent tremble at the memory. These were extenuating circumstances, however. Christmas was on the line. She would forgive him. Besides, he'd respected this rule perfectly up until now, even sleeping on the living room couch instead of her bed. There had to have been credit for that.

He unlocked the door, then stepped inside.

It was unexpected and sharp, like stepping out the door on a winter's night. Like the sudden drop in temperature, and the smack of an icy gust of wind as it hits. The breathlessness as lungs fight to breathe again. It was that same feeling, only instead of icy wind, it was her scent. It assaulted him as soon as he stepped inside, as instantaneous and jarring as a blast of cold air. The scent that always reminded him of key-lime pie, which he could never determine if it came from a lotion or shampoo, or was just the natural sweetness of her skin… That scent robbed him of clarity. Like with icy wind, he was left breathless.

When he could breathe again, he shut the door quickly behind him, as if to preserve this room and its fresh memory of her. His eyes scanned over the décor, as if it was his first time here. But it wasn't. He recalled one of the many times he was in her bedroom, as his gaze drifted to her bed.

It was recent. Maybe only a week or so before they left for Tenrou. They had been together, beneath the pastel sheets. There had been kissing, low murmurs, teasing laughter, fingertips, sighing. His hand had inched up her leg, until he tried to climb beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown, fingers searching for new terrain. He could still hear her surprised gasp, and could replay with clarity the chastisement he received immediately afterward.

" _Excuse me_?" She had pushed his hand away. " _It's a little too soon for that, don't you think_?"

" _Too soon_?" he had scoffed, only a little wounded by the rejection. " _We've known each other for almost a year, Dreamer_."

" _Yeah, but… We've only been dating for a little while_ ," she had sounded uncertain, like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. " _These things take time, Macbeth. You know… People go on some dates, get to know each other… You have to earn the right to do_ that."

He had rolled his eyes. " _Dream, I held you in my arms while you bled to death after being impaled right before my eyes. I'd say I've earned it."_

She had blushed and squirmed slightly, which had nearly defeated any sanity he had left.

" _Please, don't make me feel guilty…"_ she touched his chest, like a sad child seeking comfort. " _I'm… just not ready yet, okay_?"

He hadn't answered. Instead, he abandoned his previous attempt, and centered his focus higher, on her chest. He'd looked her dead in the cherry-blossom eyes, watched the way she melted at his touch, and asked, " _What about this_?"

Her expression had been embarrassed, but blissful. " _I-I guess I'm okay with… this_."

And he had kissed her again, and they had teased each other a little while longer, until Dreamer wanted to sleep. So, they slept, wrapped around one another under the mess of blankets.

Those same blankets were straight and flat, now—unrumpled by the presence of warm bodies, love, and hormones. And for a strange moment, Macbeth felt a nauseous anger well in his throat. He had the impulse to rip the blankets off her bed and scream. Because she was gone, his prayer, his _dream_ , and he didn't know when he'd see her again. Because he'd give anything, in that instant, to go back to the night they were cuddled under those blankets, to tell her to never leave him. Because time was splintering wood, like the trunk of a pine tree being cut for Christmas, and that night with Dreamer was nothing but a groove on the wood, on the part abandoned.

 _Christmas._

He'd almost forgotten.

He pushed aside his feelings for now. There were more important things to worry about. Like finding where Dreamer had hidden her Christmas decorations.

He opened her closet. His gaze lingered on the dresses that were hanging there. He almost wandered down another path of memories, beginning to recall each dress and blouse, and the way they fit the shape of her body, or highlighted her eyes, or made her skin seem that much brighter… But he caught himself, and quickly shoved the clothes to the side. He smirked.

Sure enough, Dreamer had hidden bags and totes of Christmas things behind her dresses, where they wouldn't easily be spotted by peeking eyes. He set to work, pulling out every last strand of lights and decorations, and tossing them onto her bed so he could sort through them. He was pleased to find that there were already Christmas presents wrapped for Syllestra, so at least she would have something under the tree.

Once everything was sorted and he had developed a plan to tackle this decoration project, the former-dark-wizard-assassin-turned-fairy set to making a holly jolly Christmas.

* * *

 **O' Christmas Tree**

Macbeth wiped sweat from his brow, as he admired his handiwork. Finally, over two hours later, he was finished decorating. There was a wreath on the door, tinsel, garland, holly, lights and all the other Christmas junk he found in Dreamer's closet. This type of thing wasn't exactly his forte, so it looked a bit like a group of children had strung things up at random, but it would do. He scanned everything over, eyes narrowed in concentration. He felt a strange nagging in the back of his head, as though he'd forgotten something. But that wasn't possible. He'd used every single decoration in Dreamer's closet, and stacked all of Syllest's presents in the corner next to the fireplace and…

The _tree_. The presents were alone in the corner of the room, unprotected by pine branches.

He grinded his teeth in frustration. There _needed_ to be a Christmas tree. It was one of the things Syllestra had mentioned, and he'd promised her Christmas.

He closed his eyes and stood completely still as he thought. A clock, now wrapped in gold tinsel, ticked in the background. Then, suddenly, his eyes shot open, the red irises gleaming with determination.

He picked his coat up from the floor, burrowed inside of it, and headed back into the cold. His steps were quick and sure, as he marched to his destination. Past decorated houses and people bundled in scarves who wished him a "Merry Christmas" when they passed. He didn't return the sentiments. All the way past the guild hall to Fairy Hills—the dorm where the unmarried women of Fairy Tail lived.

There was an old myth that Fairy Hills had been enchanted by Freed to zap any male who tried to enter any doors or windows. He knew it was nonsense though, by the number of times Gajeel had ditched him to go help Levy move boxes of books in her room. So, without hesitation, he swung the front door open and stepped inside.

Some nameless girl squeaked in surprise when she saw him.

"H-Hey, you're not allowed—"

"Laki," he interrupted, his voice a dark warning. "I need Laki."

"But—"

He stepped threateningly close to the fellow Fairy Tail member, his eyes flashing like the fires of hell. "I don't have time for games, little girl. Get her. Or I will kick down every door until I find her."

"Geez okay!" The girl shrieked and ran down the hall.

Macbeth waited, impatiently. He tapped the toe of his boot in annoyance, eyes darting frequently to the clock that sat on the front desk. Christmas Eve was halfway over, and he didn't even have a Christmas tree.

A few minutes later, Laki Olietta came down the hall. Macbeth didn't know her personally, but he'd heard Kinana talk about her. The two of them were friends. According to Kina, the purple-haired, glasses-wearing wizard was incredibly skilled at manipulating wood.

"Macbeth?" The woman blinked at him from behind oversized glasses. "What on earth do you want from _me_?"

"I need your help," he said, cutting straight to the point.

She blinked again, still staring in bewilderment. " _My_ help? Are you sure? I mean, we've never even spoken."

"Kinana said you're a wood-wizard. Am I mistaken?" He tried to contain his glare, but the irritation was still evident on his face.

"No, that's true." She fiddled with the bow in her hair.

"I need a Christmas tree."

He explained the situation he was in, trying to scramble together a Christmas for a little eight-year-old girl. Laki nodded, listening intently.

"That's really sweet, what you're trying to do for her, but… You do know that I can only manipulate wood, right? It's not like I can grow trees."

"Then can you cut one down?" he asked, all business.

"Sure, that wouldn't be a problem, but you'd have to carry it all the way back to town—wait! Where are you going?"

He was already walking back through the front door. He said nothing, just gestured with his gloved hand for her to follow. She quickly buttoned her coat, and ran to catch up.

It was a long, silent, _seriously awkward_ walk to the forest. Macbeth made no effort to talk to Laki. His eyes remained straight forward, toward his objective. She struggled to keep up with his pace, all the while frowning about the entire situation.

"So…" She tried for conversation. "Is it true, what everyone says about you?"

Macbeth glanced at her, but said nothing.

"Are you really a sadist?" she clarified.

He stopped walking, though not to address her question. He was standing in a patch of pine trees, carefully observing the height, width, and general attractiveness of the trees.

"What kind of tools do you use?" She asked, with a glint in her glasses. "What's your favorite? Does that mean Dreamer is a masochist? It's so hard to find people who understand this lifestyle, and honestly—"

Macbeth shot her an icy glare, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh." She recoiled slightly, an embarrassed grin on her face, as she scratched the back of her head. "So, I guess when people say you're a sadist, it's just a figure of speech."

"Laki," he said, eyes still narrowed. "I. Just. Need. A. Tree."

"Right!" She put her fists on her hips. "In that case!"

"That one?" He pointed at a small tree.

"No, the trunk is rotting. Try the one next to it."

"Too tall for the apartment."

"What about the one on the left? It's very healthy. It should last a while before the needles all fall off."

He cocked his head while he examined the tree she'd pointed out. It was the right size… nicely shaped… He could envision it covered in lights in the living room, a few feet from the fireplace. "Yes."

"Alright," Laki lifted her hands. "Stand next to it. You'll have to catch it when it falls. Then we can carry it back together. It shouldn't be too heavy. If it is, I'll make us a cart."

He did as she said and braced himself for catching the tree when it fell. She used her magic and made a clean cut through the trunk of the tree in only an instant. It gave a soft creak, then slowly tipped in Macbeth's direction. He caught it, but received a face full of pine needles in the process.

"Good job! Let me help!" Laki rushed to the trunk-end of the tree and hoisted it up. "Should I make something to carry it on?"

"No." He spat out a needle, then adjusted the position of the tree onto his shoulder. He mumbled something under his breath about "cursed Fairy holidays," then started the walk back to town with Laki's help.

The purple-haired girl helped him squeeze the tree through the front door, crafted a tree stand for it, and helped Macbeth secure it in place. The two wizards then stepped back to admire their handiwork.

"It fits perfectly," Laki noted, as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"It _has_ to be perfect," he said, gravely.

There was a long moment of silence, as Macbeth stared at the tree, and Laki stood awkwardly with her hands behind her back.

"Well…" she cleared her throat.

"Get out," he said. "I need to decorate it."

She blinked at him. "That's not how you say 'thank you,' you know?" An angry frown. "It's not like I _had_ to go out of my way for you."

Macbeth sighed in obvious irritation. He cut her a sidelong glance. Then, with a scowl and twitching eyebrow… "I'm not ungrateful, I…" He closed his eyes. "I need to make this Christmas perfect for her."

Laki's expression softened. "I understand." She reached out to give his arm a gentle squeeze, then thought better of it due to the "touch me and I'll make your worst dreams a reality" glare that she received. "But remember, Macbeth. Christmas isn't about the decorations or the tree or the presents. It's about kindness, giving, and joy. The best thing you can do for Syllestra for Christmas, is to share moments of happiness with her. Being stressed out like this will only make Christmas miserable for both of you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

His eyes widened in shock at her words. He let them sink in, as he stared at the tree.

"It's hard for all of us to feel joy this Christmas," she continued. "We're all just as worried about the missing Fairy Tail members as you are about Dreamer. But we've got to keep smiling. We have to keep our faith! If we believe with all our strength, our Christmas wishes will come true, and our friends will come home." She smiled gently, when she saw the tears gathering in his eyes. "So, don't worry so much about getting the decorations just right. All you need to do to make this Christmas special for Syllest is to smile, even when it hurts."

He closed his eyes, his plum-lips trembling.

"…Thank you."

She grinned widely, then took a step back from him. "No worries! It's the least I can do for a fellow sadist!"

He raised an eyebrow and sighed at this comment.

"I wish you the best of luck, Macbeth." She bowed her head, then finally left him alone to decorate the tree.

He stared at it for a while longer, thinking over what Laki had said. The important thing was making sure Syllest felt special… but, decorations couldn't _hurt._

 _Ornaments._

There had been no ornaments in Dreamer's closet. Now, a naked, unadorned tree sat in the corner of Dreamer and Mira's living room, and the sun was already going down outside.

 _Think, Macbeth… Think…_

He was struck by an idea, then darted down the hallway toward Dreamer's room. If there were no ornaments to be found, he would improvise…

* * *

 **Kissin' By The Mistletoe**

Macbeth had been gone all day. It was after sunset, and Erik and Kinana had just finished giving Syllestra an early dinner. Erik's mood had clearly not improved since breakfast, as he wore a scowl as a permanent accessory by this point. Kinana was much more relaxed, and had made the most out of the day with the child. They did crafts, made paper snowflakes to hang up in the hall, decorated windows, and drew pictures of snowmen. The two of them had chicken noodle soup for dinner (while Erik stared out the window in annoyance).

Now, however, the scene was tense. Syllestra was jumping up and down on a table, face red with anger as she pointed at her two babysitters. Kinana was blushing fiercely, and Erik was sneering.

This was the scene that Macbeth walked in on.

"YOU _HAVE_ TO DO IT!" Syllest shrieked, with an especially angry stomp on the table.

"Anyone ever tell you you're an annoying brat?" Erik snapped back.

"No YOU'RE an annoying brat!" She fumed. "And I'm gonna tell my dad you said that!"

"Can we all calm down, please?" Kinana asked, nervously.

"Go ahead, tell Midnight, see if I care!" Erik yelled. "What's he gonna do, torture me? Yeah right, he's a softie now."

"Don't talk about my dad like that!" Her eyes welled with tears. "H-He's not a softie! He'll… He'll kick your ass!"

"Syll _est_!" Kinana gasped.

Erik winced. "Would you just shut up alread—"

His words caught in his throat as an invisible force constricted his collar painfully tight around his neck. He gave a yelp of pain with an especially hard twist of the fabric.

"Macbeth!" Kinana looked at the doorway in shock.

The dual-haired wizard released Erik after a moment, then put a hand on his hip, a no-nonsense glare in his red eyes.

"Macbeth!" Syllest squealed in excitement. "Uncle Erik was being so—"

"Sit down." Macbeth cut her off. She squeaked before plopping on her rear. "If I hear you use language like that again, you're grounded for a week. And _you_ …" a death glare toward the poison-slayer, who was clearing his throat and tugging his collar in discomfort. "Just because we're fairies now, does not mean I'm incapable of being cruel. Don't forget, Cobra, misery is a lullaby to my ears, no matter what symbol I wear on my arm."

"I hear ya, loud and clear." Erik bared a fang with his shamed scowl.

"Now." Macbeth glanced between the three of them. "What's going on here?"

Kinana and Erik exchanged an embarrassed glance. Syllest started to stand up again, then gripped the table to control herself. Instead, she pointed above Kinana and Erik's heads. "Look!" an excited shout. "It's mistletoe!"

Macbeth looked up at the leaves hanging above their heads. It looked like they had been hastily taped on the wall, and there was a conspicuous stack of books against the wall, which would have enabled a certain raven-haired child to climb high enough to set-up the plant.

"If two people stand under the mistletoe, they have to kiss!" the girl declared. "So, Erik and Kinana _have_ to kiss!"

"I already told you, I'm not participating in your stupid holiday rituals, kid!"

Kinana played with the frills of her skirt, looking harassed.

"Macbeth…" Syllestra looked at him with tears in her eyes. "They _have_ to kiss. Please, make them kiss."

Macbeth walked to Syllestra and leaned to her level. "Syllestra, look at me." She did, pink eyes reflected on red. "No."

Erik gave a victorious smirk. Kinana's head lowered even more.

"You're not allowed to watch people kiss until you're an adult. And even then, you can never force someone to do what they don't want to do. That is not the kind of person you will become."

Syllestra nodded seriously, taking in his guidance like it was sacred.

Kinana glanced up at Erik, her lips trembling a bit. "Erik…"

He looked at her and listened to unspoken words. The tips of his ears turned bright red. "N-No, that's not it at all!" he said, averting his gaze.

"But—"

"I don't want to kiss you just because some creepy-ass kid set us up, okay?" He practically snarled. "If I'm gonna do it, it's going to mean something more than that."

Erik's eyes widened, as if his own confession startled him. Now, he and Kinana were both blushing brightly.

"Oh…" Kina twisted the frill of her dress with even more fervor.

Macbeth watched their exchange for only a moment before scooping Syllest into his arms and lifting her to his shoulders. "Come on."

"But they—"

"Leave them alone, Syllest." He started for the door.

"…Okay. Am I really creepy?" She asked, finally looking away.

"There's nothing wrong with being creepy," he replied.

Their voices drifted off, as Kina and Erik were left in the room, still beneath the mistletoe.

"Finally, she's out of our hair," Erik grumbled. He still avoided her gaze.

"You shouldn't treat her like that." Kinana chastised, quietly. "She's just a child."

"I…" He sighed, and uncrossed his arms. "I'm just in a shitty mood today. I didn't mean to take it out on all of you."

"I know." She tucked hair behind her ear. "I understand that Christmas is tough for you, Erik, but… Can't we make good memories now?"

He finally met her gaze. There was uncertainty etched on his face, as his eyes flicked between hers. "That's easy for you to say," he mumbled. "You've always been more optimistic than me. Even as a snake."

"I was?" she blinked, eyelashes fluttering.

"Yeah. There were a few times…" the corner of his lip turned up in a smile, as he retrieved memories, "when I'd be crying, and you'd slither up to me with a ball, wanting to play. I used to get so mad at you for looking at me like that—like you were smiling. I didn't get it. I didn't know how the sound of your heart could be so happy, when I felt like dying."

"It's because…" Kinana gently took his hands. "I was with my best friend." She smiled now, joy on her round cheeks. "How could I be sad, if I was with you?"

"Kina…" his eyes shone with awe, mouth parted slightly. Finally, a tender smile touched his lips. "Yeah. You always made me feel better back then, too."

"See?" She squeezed his palms. "You shouldn't be so angry about Christmas, because we're together this year. As humans who can hear each other and feel each other. We can make good Christmas memories, together."

He chuckled. "You're always right."

"Of course, I am!" she giggled. "I'm a woman!"

He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, Erik?" she batted her eyelashes up at him.

"What?"

"There's one more thing…" She suddenly stood on her tiptoes, then placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. His tan skin went immediately cherry red, steam rising from his ears. Kinana giggled at his reaction, before letting him go.

"W-Why did you—" His eyebrow twitched, and he covered his face with his hand, to hide the unholy blush.

"It's a Christmas rule, silly." She winked at him. "Now, come on! I got you a Christmas Eve present~ Do you want to come to my room? You could stay the night, if you want!"

"Stay the night?" He covered his face with both hands now.

"Yeah, of course! We used to sleep together when I was Cubellios, right?"

"That was different, and you know it, Kinana." He dropped his hands with a pout. "You're screwing with me."

"It's called teasing." She took his hand, and gave cheery hop toward the door. "And maybe I am, just a little." She blushed too, as she led him out of the room and toward Fairy Hills. "But if you want… we really can sleep next to each other…"

"I'll… think about it." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, what's this about a present?"

The two old friends braved the cold, hand-in-hand.

Across town, an eight-year-old and her surrogate father were stepping out of the same, harsh cold, into a toasty, recently decorated apartment…

* * *

' **Twas The Night Before Christmas**

"Wow!" The child skipped through the door. Her eyes twinkled like Christmas lights as she took in her surroundings. "You did it, Macbeth! It looks like Christmas!"

The dual-haired wizard closed the door behind them. He silently set to work taking off her coat and beanie and gloves, while she ignored him to gape at the decorations.

"It's just like Mommy and Mira do it! Except, well usually Auntie Mira puts the tree over there, after they move the couch by the door. And they hang the lights up on the wall instead of on all the furniture, but I like it! And it smells like the forest in here because you even got a Christmas tree and… Wait a second!" She wriggled the rest of the way out of her coat, then ran to the tree. She threw her little head back in laughter so intense that she grabbed her stomach, and dramatically rolled on the carpet. "Heehee! Haha, I can't believe it!"

"What's so funny?" Macbeth asked, with just the slightest edge of a pout to his lips.

The little girl pointed at the Christmas tree, still rolling. "When Mommy and Auntie Mira find out, you're gonna be in big trouble!"

"They won't find out," he countered, "as long as you keep quiet."

She giggled some more, then stood up to better admire Macbeth's creativity. The tree was woven with blinking lights, but in lieu of ornaments, jewelry hung from the branches. Every earring, necklace, ring, and bracelet Macbeth had been able to find in both Mira and Dreamer's rooms and bathroom, were strung up on the tree. There were even a few pairs of particularly shiny heels.

"I bet Romeo's tree isn't this cool!" Syllest declared, proudly. "I bet we're the only people in the whole Fiore with a necklace tree!"

"That's probably true," he commented. "It's missing something, though."

She looked over her shoulder at him. Black eyelashes brushed her cheeks when she blinked.

"The star." He nodded toward the top of the tree.

"Oh yeah!" She put her hand in her pocket. She pulled out a pink diamond star, only large enough to sit in the palm of her hand. "I… I didn't have a lot of time to make it, and it was really hard to make all the legs the same shape, so that's why it looks kind of catterwonky—"

Macbeth cut her off before she could spout any more nonsensical words. He discarded his own coat on the back of the sofa, then took the star from Syllest's hands. She winced, as if waiting for his disapproval—anticipating disappointment.

"Hm." He examined the thing for a long moment, as if truly judging its quality.

"I know it's bad, but I—"

"I think," he cut her off again, as he lifted the star to the top of the tree, "that even celestial spirits would be jealous of this star." He nestled it in the top between some branches.

"R-Really?" Syllest drank the praise. "You really think so?"

He dropped his arm, then looked at her. She was staring expectantly up at him, her cherry-blossom eyes swirling with awe. The expression was so pure, so hopeful, that he couldn't help but smile. "Yes," he stated simply.

Her awe turned quickly to a beaming grin.

"Syllest," he cocked his head, slightly. "Tell me again what you do on Christmas Eve."

"Yes, Sir!" She saluted. "We open our special Christmas Eve presents, Sir!"

He looked down at the presents as he remembered what the girl had said earlier. It was something about pajamas… "There." He pointed at two presents wrapped in yellow paper. They still sported a sticky note with Dreamer's curly handwriting on it and the words, "X-Mas Eve."

Syllestra retrieved the presents. She sat cross-legged in front of the fire, then looked expectantly at him.

He didn't move.

"Come on!" She held one of the wrapped packages out. "We have to open them together! Right here!"

He frowned at the gift, but took it. He joined her on the rug, cross-legged, present in hand.

"Okay, I'll count to three, and then we can open them. But not when I say three, I mean after I say three, so don't start too soon! Ready? One, Two, Three!"

She tore into the present, shredding paper into confetti. Macbeth was far less chaotic when opening his gift. Either way, after only a few moments, they each sat with folded fabric on their laps.

"It's our twinsy pajamas!" Syllest jumped up before holding the onesie up to her neck. It was fleece, red, and included a little devil tail above an old-fashioned butt-pocket with two gold buttons. "Yay! You too, Macbeth!"

He gave the folded-up pajamas a look of disdain. Finally, he stood up and let them unravel to the floor. It was a matching set, complete with its own devil tail and butt-buttons.

"Don't just stand there, silly!" Syllest pointed to the hall. "Put them on! We have to wear them all night!"

Macbeth stared at her in disbelief. Though he tried to his best to contain his reactions around the girl, he couldn't hold back the sneer that touched his lips now. " _Wear_ them? You know your mom bought this for her, not for me. There's no way I'll fit."

"Can't you just try?" she blinked at him, expression pitiable.

"Tch." He looked away. Instead of answering, he took his red pajamas and went down the hall to the bathroom.

"Hurry up!" Syllest giggled after him. "We have to make cookies next!"

Macbeth stripped out of his layers of clothes in the bathroom. He then held the pajamas up to his neck to gauge the severity of his current dilemma. He didn't need exact measurements to know it was bad. Dreamer was shorter than him, and generally smaller except for in the obvious areas. Still… there was a raven-haired child down the hall who was expecting a special Christmas, like the ones she'd always had. A little girl with impossibly high expectations, who was currently absent all her parent-figures.

All but one.

So, with a sigh, he began to maneuver into the pajamas. As expected, they were far too tight. So tight, in fact, that they warranted to need to wear spandex shorts beneath them. There were just some things an eight-year-old should not have to see outlined by fleece. The addition of shorts made the pajamas that much tighter, of course, and unbearably hot. Plus, he couldn't get past how ridiculous the butt-compartment of this thing was.

A pleasant image of Dreamer wearing these pajamas crossed his mind. They would probably have fit snugly on all her curves. And he could think of a practicality to the back-flap on _her_ …

"Daaaaaaaaad!" Syllest yelled from the living room.

He cursed under his breath, did his best to adjust the pajamas to as-close-to-comfort as possible, and finally stepped back into the hall.

"Yay!" Syllest twirled in her pajamas, causing the devil-tail to swish. "We're matching!"

He had never felt more degraded, but… He sashayed his hips slightly, to make his own tail swish. The girl laughed out loud.

"What next?" he asked, hoping the answer would be "bed" so that he could take this ridiculous onesie off.

"Baking cookies for Wizard Saint Nikolaus's ghost!"

"Baking." Good. Something he exceled at. It would be no problem to make a tray of cookies. "Will you help me?"

"Hm?" She shook her head. "No thanks. I still need ta write my Christmas letter! Can you make the cookies by yourself, Macbeth?"

He answered by going into the kitchen, alone.

Dreamer's pink, flower apron hung on the pantry door. He put it on. The act of tying the strings behind his back called forth yet another memory of her. Before they left for Tenrou, a morning in the guild hall. He'd asked her for help tying his apron before going to bake cakes in the kitchen. He could still see her blush when he teased her and suggested she tie around his waist, too.

If only she were here, helping with the cookies. She would hum under her breath the melody she always sang. He would issue orders that she would willingly obey. He would watch her stir the flour, with the scrunched-up look of concentration she always had when she was trying to make things perfect. He'd toy with her a little, just to see her reactions. It would be a game to see how any times he could make her lose focus before she yelled at him.

He pushed his white hair back, off his shoulders, his face taking on a stony expression.

"I hate you, Dream," he lied.

Anything to make him stop thinking about her. Anything to end the worrying.

It had been nine days since they left. Eight days since the island they were meant to hold the trial on disappeared from the ocean completely.

He began to dig in the pantry for ingredients.

He decided upon a peppermint chocolate chip recipe, with a hint of cactus-pear extract. Maybe the pear wasn't exactly a Christmassy flavor, but he'd be the one eating the cookies and it was what he wanted, so there. He'd stocked an entire shelf in their pantry with his own special ingredients weeks ago. It occurred to him that he'd been spending quite a lot of time in Dreamer and Mira's apartment before the S-Class Trial.

The cookies took twenty minutes to prepare, and ten minutes to bake. He set them out to cool, wiped his hands, and hung the apron back on the pantry door. Finally, he went back to the living room, where Syllestra was laying on the floor, ankles crossed, scribbling on construction paper with an oversized crayon.

"Tada!" She held the letter up in triumph. "Are the cookies done?"

Macbeth gave a small nod. The girl scrambled to her feet before folding her handwritten letter up and propping it on the coffee table. "Can I have one, please?!" She jumped up and down.

"Stay."

Macbeth went back to the kitchen. He prepared a plate of six cookies for "Saint Nik," a glass of milk, and two cookies for he and Syllest to share.

He returned and sat the plate of cookies on the coffee table. Wordlessly, he offered Syllest one of the two in his hand. She greedily snatched it from his fingers before plopping on the ground. She took a bite. He watched her, expectantly, as he always did when someone was trying one of his confections for the first time. She looked up at him and beamed, crumbs falling from her chin.

"This is yummy, Macbeth! Saint Nik will definitely eat them all!"

"I'm sure he will," he responded with a slight smirk. He sat on the ground opposite the table from her. They nibbled on their cookies in serene silence for a few minutes. Finally, Syllest wiped her hands, then slid her Christmas letter under the plate of cookies.

"What does it say?" he gestured toward the note.

"I can't tell you!" she looked at him in utter horror. "Only Saint Nik can read the Christmas wish, or it won't come true! Everyone knows that, stupid!"

He narrowed his eyes. "Watch your mouth."

Her eyelashes fluttered and she gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry… I forgot you never had Christmas before."

"I've had Christmas," he said. He wasn't sure what prompted this defensive statement. "It was just a long time ago."

She leaned back on her palms and peered into the fireplace. "Don't worry," she said, softly. "From now on, you can have Christmases with us! Maybe not this year because Mom's not home yet, but next year and the year after that and the one after that… We'll celebrate Christmas every year! Like a real family!"

His gaze softened. He cocked his head slightly, felt his braid slide off his shoulder. She turned and caught him staring at her. Her cheeks colored slightly.

"We _are_ a real family," he simply stated.

She drank his words. Finally, she grinned brightly. "Yeah! We are!"

He stood and dusted off the onesie. "Now then. Shouldn't you get to bed so the ghost of Saint Nikolaus can pay a visit?"

She stood up too. A yawn escaped her throat as she rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. "Yeah, I'm pretty sleepy."

"Do you need me to tuck you in?"

For a moment, he felt a jarring sense of surprise at his own question. A year ago, he would have never imagined in his wildest nightmares that he would one day be asking to tuck in a little girl. Oh, how Dreamer and Syllestra had changed him.

"Nope!" She pranced past him. "I'm a big girl~"

He felt a strange, unwarranted sense of disappointment. He'd grown accustomed to tucking her in every night since Dreamer left. He cleared his throat. "Brush your teeth first."

She pouted. "Aw man, I thought you'd forget!"

"Do you want your teeth to fall out?"

She huffed, then walked down the hall to the bathroom. He chuckled under his breath.

"Goodnight!" she said, as she retreated into her room.

"Goodnight."

He listened to the door close. Watched the light go off from under the door. Listened to the creak of her bed as she climbed in.

He waited.

The clock ticked in the background. He sat, cross-legged on the floor, staring at the coffee table. Minutes ticked by. An hour. He supposed he could have gone to the bathroom and changed out of the devil-suit, but… The energy had left him the moment Syllest's door closed. The day caught up with him—all the effort he'd put in to make Christmas for the girl. The tasks had kept him occupied, his mind distracted, but now…

Alone, when the girl slept. When most of Magnolia snoozed soundly in their beds, comfortable, loved, at peace. It was then that the fear crept in. An old, sharp friend. He felt it in his chest, like pressure building. The rapid beating of his heart, paranoia climbing his throat. It was like an insect. A centipede that wrapped around his heart and lungs, and dug dagger-like legs along his throat until he was afraid to breathe. It was alive—writhing, digging, hissing inside of him.

He used to feel this fear all the time. Every waking and sleeping moment. Terror that he hid beneath rage and sadism.

But many months ago, he'd met a woman.

And as time went by, the insect had shrunk. The grip had lessened. The fear had faded.

Now, however, when he was alone at night—abandoned by the one whom taught him to tame the fear inside—it grew. It strangled.

 _What if she doesn't come back?_ it hissed. _What if she's dead?_

"Stop…" he whined to himself, putting his head in his hands. "She'll come back. She promised."

He looked up, desperate to find a way to curb his panic before it got out of control. His gaze drifted to the cookies and milk and letter on the table. He regained a sense of focus as he pulled the plate toward him and ate the cookies. Cookies and milk. Oddly soothing.

He plucked the letter up and unfolded it as he ate. He was curious what the girl had asked for. Another unicorn? A matching Erza costume?

Her nearly illegible scrawl covered the page. He tried to make out the letters and misspelled words.

 **"Dear Wizard Sant Niklos.**

 **Im sorry I hav not been a good gurl this yer. I did majyk behind moms back and I stol makbeths make up and I tricked unkel gajee and erik. Also I was the one hoo let romeeos hamster out of its cage and it drowned.**

 **I kno I hav been bad but can I make a krismas wish?**

 **I wish my new dad wood hav the bestest krismtas he ever had and I wish mom wood come home soon.**

 **The end or amen or watever"**

Macbeth's hand trembled slightly. He sat the note slowly back down on the table. To think that an eight-year-old girl would have endured so much in her life that she would neglect to ask for toys on Christmas. That her desires would be intangible things. Untouchable hopes. Sweet dreams.

Unable to contain himself any longer—alone in the insect-fear night—he finally buried his face in his arms… and wept.

He cried for the fear and for the pain. He cried for children locked in cells and towers who would never get their wishes granted. He cried for the lives he'd taken and the children he'd left alone. He cried for the Oracion Seis, whom he knew were all suffering tonight. He cried for the little raven-haired girl down the hall. And lastly, he cried for himself. He cried because he missed her.

And when he could cry no more, he sat. Cross-legged, somewhere lost in a state close to sleep, but not quite. On the brink of nightmares. In a gray, empty space.

Nearly two hours later, he stirred. His body was stiff as he stood. He left the cookie crumbs and empty cup of milk on the coffee table. The note he took with him. Down the hall and through the locked door. Into the scent. He sat it on the bedside table, stripped out of the fleece pajamas, and crawled into her bed. Felt the sheets touch his bare skin. If he closed his eyes and imagined just right, the touch was hers. It was easy, when surrounded by her scent and by the memories.

He wallowed in the misery a while longer. He promised himself, that come morning, he would set these feelings and the fear aside again. That he wouldn't revisit them until darkness fell once more. But for now, he selfishly breathed against Dreamer's pillow and pictured her face.

He held onto the thought of her, instead of her.

* * *

 **Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow**

He was woken by the high voice of a little girl.

"Macbeth, are you naked?"

He blinked groggily, then sat up. It took a moment for him to remember where he'd slept. And another moment to process the sight of Syllestra standing at the end of the bed, still in her devil pajamas.

"Why are you naked in Mom's bed?" She frowned at him. Strands of bed-head stuck to her cheek.

"What?" He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"I'm totally telling Mom when she gets home."

"What? I'm not—" he suddenly noticed the door wide open behind her. Panic exploded in his chest. "Shut the door!"

Syllest blinked at him with wide, cherry-blossom eyes. "But it's Christmas!"

He swallowed as he tried to grasp hold of rational thought. "I'll be out in a minute."

"K!" She skipped into the hall and slammed the door behind her.

Macbeth sighed, pulled the sheets off, and sat on the edge of the bed. He put his head in his hands for a long moment. He was losing his grip on reality with all this worry about Dreamer. To think, he was so desperate to preserve simply the smell of her, that he couldn't stand for the bedroom door to be open at all. Erik was right, after all. He'd gotten soft. No… he had always been this frightened little boy, under layers of hatred. It was just that Dreamer had removed the layers, and now there was nothing to protect him.

But today wasn't about that. Today was Christmas. And by Mavis, or Zeref, or gods or goddesses, he was going to make this Christmas perfect for that little girl.

He got off the bed, frowned at the too-small pajamas on the floor, and opted for changing into a new set of clothes. He went to the bathroom, where he'd been keeping his belongings in the cupboard, changed into some new clothes, made a mental note that he desperately needed to do laundry, and finally went to the living room to join Syllestra.

He stopped dead in his tracks at the end of the hall. With an eyebrow raised, his eyes scanned over the room. A few hours ago, there had been a stack of presents under the tree. Now, somehow, at least two dozen more wrapped boxes were stacked all around the room. The gold-flecked wrapping paper and elaborate cloth ribbons hinted at who the gifts might have been from, but the question was: how?

He looked at the window, which sported a broken lock.

 _Thugs,_ he thought, with the faintest of chills down his spine. He was thankful, yet again, to be on the good side of Excalibur Family graces.

"Can I start, can I start?!" Syllest already had a box in her hands.

He gave a brief nod, then sat on the couch to watch.

She tore into the presents, scattering bows and wrapping paper in all directions. Macbeth watched in amusement as she "ooh'ed" and "aw'ed" at every new gift for approximately five seconds before starting on the next one. Her excitement was tangible.

Her gifts ranged anywhere from new socks to a piggy bank carved from emerald. Her very own makeup set, which he'd bought for her despite Dreamer's very clear instructions not to. Books, dresses, toys, board games.

"This one's for you, Macbeth!" She dragged a tall box to him, wrapped in pink snowflake wrapping paper.

He eyed the gift suspiciously. "No." She was mistaken. These gifts were all for her. She was the child, the deserving and spoiled one.

"It says your name, right here!" She lifted a tag and flashed it for him. His name was written in a familiar, loopy scrawl.

"Your mother got me something?" He took the box, uncertainly.

"Of course she did, silly! She loves you!"

He felt the heat touch his cheeks. Caught Syllestra giggling out of the corner of his eyes. Snarled at her. "Don't you have more to open?" he snapped.

"Yep! Almost done!"

He set to work unwrapping the Christmas present. His eyelashes fluttered when the picture was revealed on the box below the wrapping paper. "A guitar." She'd gotten him his own guitar to practice on, rather than using Gajeel's all the time. He scoffed, but he was smiling too.

There was a card with the box. He took it, but for some reason, the thought of opening it and reading whatever was written inside made him feel nauseous. It made the centipede squirm.

 _That card could have the last words you'll ever hear from her._

He ignored the doubt. He opened it without another thought, quick, like pulling a bandage. The only words written on the inside of the card was a slanted "Merry Christmas." Out fell a photograph. He was shocked to see a picture of the two of them, together. He couldn't remember being photographed. In fact, if there was one thing he hated more than sunlight, Piper, and stale cookies, it was having his picture taken. He wasn't sure how, or when, but someone had captured a picture of he and Dreamer together in the guild garden, leaning against each other on the bench. They were both smiling.

For now, he carefully placed the photo into the card, and sat it on the guitar box. He turned his attention back to the tornado of a girl in front of the Christmas tree. She was standing on her tiptoes, looking out the window.

"Macbeth! Macbeth, look!" She gestured dramatically at the window. "It's snowing! It's snowing on Christmas!"

He watched through the glass as the snowflakes drifted peacefully down.

"Can we go outside and play?! Please?" She hopped up and down, hands clasped together. "Please! Please, please, please, please, please—"

"Quiet," he snapped, cutting her off. "Go to your room."

Her pink eyes wavered—her lip trembled. "But…"

"You can't go outside in your pajamas, can you?" He smirked, then gestured toward her bedroom. "Go on."

She broke into a wild smile before charging to the room.

Thirty minutes later, the two of them were bundled up in coats, gloves, and hats. Macbeth made scrambled eggs, noted the empty state of the refrigerator and the looming fact that he hadn't made any money in going on two weeks now. He wasn't sure when Dreamer was coming home, but soon he would have to accept responsibility for providing for Syllest. A problem for another day.

Finally, they stepped out into the cold, where the snowflakes continued to drift lazily onto snowbanks below.

* * *

 **Winter Wonderland**

The Sola trees branches were heavy with blankets of white. Three other families scattered the park, with small children squished under layers of clothes, making snow angels, forts, and snowmen. Syllest spun around, arms outstretched. She giggled as she stuck her tongue out to catch a snowflake. Her pink eyes glistened like sunlight on fresh snow.

"Let's make snow angels!" She fell backward, with a tremendous amount of faith in the cushion of snow beneath her. Macbeth watched in amusement while she scrunched her face up in concentration and swept her arms and legs. After a minute of this, she held still. She stared at the white sky above, and frowned.

"What's wrong?" he cocked his head.

"If I try to stand up, I'll ruin it," she said, her voice a whine.

He rolled his eyes, then offered a gloved hand. She grasped it, then leapt to her feet. "Look! It's perfect!" The snow crunched under her boots as she hopped up and down.

"Almost." He crouched near the head of the snow angel, and drew horns above it. "There. That's better."

"Heehee," she covered her mouth with a mitten as she laughed. "It's a snow _demon_!"

He stood, then thrust his hands in his pockets. Before he could ask her what she wanted to do next, the child was rolling a ball of snow a few feet away.

"I'm gonna make the bestest snowman out here!"

He watched her roll the snowball until it was big enough that her face turned bright pink as she struggled to make it bigger. She stepped back, analyzed the snowball for a long time, nodded, then started on the body.

"Last year, Romeo and I had a contest to see who could build the best snowman!" she declared, as she worked. "We asked everyone to be the judge and tell us who did better, but grownups are so stupid, you know? Mira and Mom were like 'aww, they're both cute, you both did a good job,' but I _know_ we did a good job, I wanted to know who did a better job! Nobody wanted to decide so we had to go back to the guild and find Erza because she's the bestest snowman judge in Fiore, she even has a snowman armor that she put on so she could judge us, and she had a notepad and took a bunch of notes and poked the snowmen and I know she was going to say that mine was the best, but then Natsu and Happy were having a snowball fight and Happy dropped a snowball on Natsu's face and then Natsu shot a fireball instead of a snowball because he's so dumb and the fireball hit my snowman and knocked his head off, so Erza said Romeo was the winner and I got mad and kicked Romeo's snowman, and then he got mad and tackled me in the snow and I tried to kill him but then I was having so much fun and we laughed and—" she took a deep breath, lungs contracted in the snow. "Macbeth, can you pick this one up for me?"

He smirked, then lifted his hand. With his magic, he lifted the oversized snowball and plopped it on the base. Syllest stared in awe.

"WOW! If I had you with me last year I would have totally won the contest! We gotta do it next year, okay? You can use your magic and we can build a snowman like a billion houses tall!"

"A billion, hm?" he chuckled.

"Yeah!" She started to roll up the head, but Macbeth stooped beside her.

"Why make a snowman like everyone else, Syllest? Wouldn't it be more fun if you made something else?"

"Like what?" she batted her eyelashes.

"A monster," he said, darkly. "To eat all the other snowmen."

"Wow…" she whispered, as the idea clicked in her head. "YEAH! A snow monster! Help me, Dad, please, please, please, please, please, please, please!"

He shushed her with his hand. Wordlessly, he set to work, adding a spiked tail to the back of the snowman.

A half an hour later, they stepped back to admire their handiwork. Neither of them was necessarily an artist, so the snow "monster" looked more like a snowblob with a few identifiable features. A tail, spikes, horns, and sharp teeth made out of rocks.

"It's perfect…" Syllest sighed in happiness. She leaned suddenly against his arm. He inhaled sharply at the unexpected touch, but then a small smile touched his lips. He put an arm around her shoulders.

"I think so, too."

As he spoke, a group of older kids nearby began to point. They were working on their own snowman, complete with a carrot nose, button eyes, and a hat. They nudged each other, pointed at Macbeth and Syllest's creation, and sneered.

"What _is_ that," a girl asked, not quite out of earshot.

"It's super ugly," a boy jeered.

"Yeah, what a weirdo."

"Isn't that the creepy girl from your school?"

"I don't know, probably! Gross, no wonder the snowman is so ugly."

Macbeth's eyebrow twitched. He felt his grip on Syllest's shoulder get painfully tight in response to anger welling inside his chest.

"HEY!" Syllest jerked out of his arms. She trudged through the snow a few steps toward the other children, then put her hands on her hips. "SHUT UP!" She pointed. "Our snowmonster is special! Me and my dad made it together, and it could eat your stupid snowman!"

The kids laughed at her, rolling their eyes.

"I said shut up!" Syllest started toward them, tears gathering in her eyes, hands clenched in mitten-fists. She only got two steps, however, before Macbeth tugged her back by the hood. "LET ME GO!" she screamed. "They're making fun of us! I hate them! I'm gonna go knock their stupid, perfect snowman over!"

"Enough." He tugged her back, harsher this time.

"But they're making fun of our monster…" she looked up at him, hot tears streaking down her face. "We made it together."

"Hush, Syllestra." He touched her lips, then bent to her level. His next words were a whisper. "There are better ways to get revenge."

"… _revenge_?" the word was a quivering whisper.

"Hm." He nodded in confirmation. "For now, we wait." He kneeled and began to construct a snow fort, while the other children continued their play, undisturbed. Syllest followed his example, and quietly set to working on the fort wall.

A few minutes passed.

"We forgot the scarf!" one of the children called out.

"Let's go back to my house and get one! And my mom will make us hot chocolate!"

There were hoots of agreement, and the troupe of kids slowly meandered away, leaving their "stupid, perfect" snowman vulnerable and unprotected.

Macbeth straightened up. His vortex eyes followed the children until they were out of sight. Then, he nodded at Syllest. "Do you see that torch by the sidewalk?"

"Yeah!"

"Go get it."

After some direction, a few minutes, and a bit of creativity, she ran back to his side to admire their handiwork. They crouched behind their fort wall, and grinned evilly at the sight of the snowman across the park. It's carrot nose and hat were on fire, and the torch lingered close enough to its face that snow drip had already distorted the carefully crafted features.

"Best. Revenge. Ever!" she squeaked next to him.

"It's not over yet." He tugged her coat, forcing her to crouch lower in the snow. He covered his lip with a finger, shushing her. He nodded in the direction the children had disappeared. The group was returning, refueled and hoisting a red scarf in the wind.

"What the—" A little boy ran to the snowman. The others quickly followed. "WHAT HAPPENED?!"

"It's on fire!" A girl screamed.

"Quick, get that torch away!"

One of the children lunged for the torch. To his shock and dismay, it moved of its own accord, away from his outstretched hand. He faceplanted into the snow as the torch suddenly speared the snowman through the stomach. A girl scampered backward, butt in the snow. One of the boys burst into tears.

"I-Is it h-haunted?!"

"Don't be stupid!" The leader proclaimed. "It was just an accident! Stop being babies and help me—" He reached for the torch. Before he could touch it, however, the snowman lifted its twig arms, slowly. He stared in horror as its arms outstretched, gripped its own snowball head, and threw it directly into his face.

The boy broke into tears.

"RUN!" The children scrambled, screaming and crying, in all directions. Soon, the distorted snowman stood alone, headless and smoldering.

Behind a snow-fort wall, Syllest was laughing so hard that she was crying. "Did you see their faces, Macbeth?!" she rolled in the snow. "That was the funniest thing I ever saw!"

"That's what they get for insulting our creation," he remarked, his eyes glistening with amusement and… _joy._

"You're the coolest dad ever!" She threw him into a surprise embrace and squeezed with all her might.

"Tch." He pried her off. "Enough." His tone was harsh, but his cheeks seemed a little brighter pink than the cold would normally allow.

If she was offended, she didn't show it. Instead, she hopped over the fort wall and strode proudly to the destroyed snowman. She stooped down to pick up the discarded red scarf, marched back to the snowmonster they'd made, and positioned it nicely in the rock-teeth mouth.

"See?" She put her hands on her hips and grinned widely. "Our snowmonster did eat their stupid snowman!"

Macbeth chuckled under his breath as he watched her. His cheeks felt strangely sore and stiff after a moment. He touched them, felt his own smile. He hadn't smiled this much in a long time. Certainly not any time in the last ten days. It was an expression he still had to get used to, after years of owning nothing but a condescending smirk. Dreamer and Syllest had taught him how to smile from the heart…

"I'm cold," Syllest declared. "Can we go to the guild hall?"

He gave a brisk nod, turned, and started in that direction. He took two steps, then paused to look back at the child as she caught up. In an act of impulse, he held his gloved hand out to her. She beamed brightly, then clutched it tightly.

They walked hand-in-hand the rest of the way.

* * *

A few Fairy Tail stragglers were in the guild hall on Christmas Day. Most were not. Romeo, for example, was with his mom and dad for the holiday, though it was unlikely he would have been up for Syllest's shenanigans anyway. Laki was there—and now there was an awkward tension in the air between her and Macbeth. She tried to clear it up by giving him a suspiciously wrapped present in a brown paper bag, along with a heavy wink. Erik and Kinana were there, of course. And it was Kina who kept Syllestra entertained after a lunch that they all shared.

Macbeth and Erik sat on the stage, watching the girls play hide-and-seek.

"Are you in a better mood today, Erik?" Macbeth asked, as he quietly tuned the new guitar that he _might_ have been subtly bragging about for the past few hours.

"…Yeah." Erik's arms were folded over his chest. His eyes lingered on Kinana. "But I'm not going to apologize for yesterday, so if that's what you want, you can forget it."

"I don't need a worthless apology from you." He tilted the guitar slightly so it would catch the light from above.

"Right."

There was silence between them for several, long minutes.

"For what it's worth…" the slayer started, slowly. "I think you're doing a good job playing mom-number-two to the kid."

"Was that a compliment or an insult?" Macbeth raised an eyebrow.

"How long are you going to keep it up?" Erik finally turned his gaze, locking eyes with the other man.

"As long as I need to," came the immediate response.

"Yeah, that's noble for now. Saint Midnight, nurturing the weak and helpless." He tapped his arm. "But how long are you gonna keep it up? You can't pull jobs with a kid on your hip, and I know you're hurting for money."

"I'll handle it." Macbeth's gaze never faltered.

"What if they don't come back?"

The forbidden question hung strangely in the air. Still, despite its poisonous barbs dangling above their heads, Macbeth still didn't look away.

"They will."

"All the faith of a real fairy," Erik scoffed. "Fine. They'll come back. But what if it's not for months? Years? What are you going to do, Macbeth?"

Red eyes swirled with dark, mysterious emotion. "I will not abandon her."

Erik was the one who finally closed his eyes. He breathed a long sigh of defeat. His eyebrow twitched as he listened to unspoken words.

"This isn't just about Dreamer," he stated, though he didn't meet Macbeth's eyes again. "Is it?"

The dual-haired mage did not answer this question. He sat his guitar down, then latched his gaze on Syllest.

"She's not _her_ , you know?" Erik said.

"Stop listening."

"You think that if you protect this girl, it will make up for what you did?"

"No." A faraway look settled in the base of the vortex eyes. "But I will not leave this one behind."

"Look…" Erik sighed. He uncrossed his arms. "It wasn't your fault. You were just a kid, and you were scared. You gonna let that eat you up for the rest of your life?"

"It is one of my sins," he answered, without emotion. "I have to pay for it."

"And this is how you're going to do that? By fostering an orphan kid whose mom could be dead for all we know?"

"Erik." Macbeth frowned. He watched Syllest hide behind a pillar. "If you think you can convince me to leave her behind, you're dreaming. No matter what you think, I will not abandon this child."

"…Yeah, I figured. You've always had a soft spot for kids. I just… wanted to make sure you're thinking it through and doing it for the right reasons."

"…Thank you."

"Don't mention it." The tips of Erik's ears took some color. "And… don't beat yourself up about what happened when you were a kid. We all did what we had to, to survive."

Macbeth didn't answer.

"Nah," Erik responded to a thought. "You don't know that. She could have made it, like we did."

"No." Macbeth closed his eyes. "She wasn't even old enough to walk, Erik. I left her screaming in an alleyway as the city burned. An infant… A helpless, little girl…" his voice trembled. He watched Syllest. "I abandoned her, and she died. I won't let that happen with Syllestra. Even if Dreamer never comes home… Even if I have to raise her… I will _not_ abandon this one."

A strained silence.

"Alright." Erik nodded, slowly. "Then, you've got my support."

Macbeth glanced at him, eyes suspicious.

"I'll always have your back. If taking care of that kid is what you want to do, then I'll help you, whatever you need. I'm sure Kina feels the same way. You don't have to do it alone."

"Hm…" Macbeth smirked.

"What's so funny? What are you chuckling about, huh?"

"I wonder if this is a Christmas miracle," red eyes sparkled. Erik's face flushed and he looked away.

"I'm not saying I'll babysit the little brat, okay? But if you need help with jobs or finding a place to stay or… y'know, whatever you can think of. Just saying that…"

"You'll be my friend."

"Yeah."

"Best friend?"

"Hell no," Erik rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to mess with that metal-head's fantasy."

"So," Macbeth's smirk widened. "You admit that Gajeel is the winner."

"No, because it's not a competition!" he snapped, a little too enthusiastically. "What the hell is a best friend, anyway? You and me are practically brothers. We have been since the Seis was founded, so that iron-munching lug-nut doesn't have anything on me."

"Hm. But you said it's not a competition." His eyes twinkled, mischievously.

"Kina, let's go!" Erik yelled suddenly, looking harassed.

"Okay!" Kinana kissed Syllestra on the head. "Merry Christmas, Syllest!"

"Merry Christmas, Kina!"

Macbeth watched her skip toward the stage, bright-eyed and grinning.

 _I will not abandon you, Syllestra_. The reason didn't matter. Love for Dreamer. Guilt for a past sin. What mattered was protecting her.

What mattered today, was Christmas.

* * *

 **Silent Night**

At long last, Christmas Day was ending. Exhausted children all over Magnolia were snuggling down into their blankets with new stuffed toys and fuzzy socks. Garbage cans full of crumpled wrapping paper and cardboard boxes lined the streets. The winter sun had set hours ago.

The exhaustion was evident on both the faces of Macbeth and Syllestra. The little girl was physically drained from hours of play in the snow. The man was mentally and emotionally depleted after two days of going completely against the grain of his personality to provide peace and joy to a child. She was bundled up in a blanket, eyelids blinking heavily. He sat cross-legged, head drooping slightly as he struggled to stay awake. Each of them had a mug of hot chocolate clasped between their hands. He'd found Mira's recipe, and added his own splash of vanilla to the concoction. But even the overload of sugary marshmallows and chocolate did little to keep their eyes open.

Syllest yawned loudly. She sat her mug on the coffee table, rubbed her eyes, then crawled to Macbeth's side. Wordlessly, she nestled against him. They faced the fire together, mesmerized by the dancing flames.

"Did you have a good Christmas, Syllest?" he asked, just above a whisper.

"Yeah." She yawned again. "This has been one of my bestest Christmases ever. I can't wait to tell Mommy all about it."

"But not the part about the jewelry. Or the snowman we destroyed."

She gave a quiet giggle. "Okay. I promise."

He leaned with his own mug to set it beside hers. Then, he got more comfortable, allowing the girl to snuggle against him completely.

"Did you have a good Christmas, Macbeth?"

He thought about this. "…Yes. I had fun today."

"Was it your bestest Christmas ever?" She tugged mindlessly on the ear of the stuffed lion she held.

"It was…" he searched his memory. Back, to the one and only Christmas he could remember before this one. "It was the best Christmas I've had in a long time."

She adjusted herself so she could see his face. Her eyes were wide, and they danced with the swirling hues of cherry-blossoms and flames. When he looked into them… the insect-fear seemed to recoil. The memories of warmth, sunlight, key-lime pie, all chased it away. It was a blessing that she had Dreamer's eyes. A blessing and a curse.

"Can you tell me about your old Christmases, Macbeth? From when you were a kid?"

He closed his eyes. "Syllestra, I…"

"Please?" She batted her long eyelashes. "Just tell me one thing! One little, teensy, eensy, thing?"

He sighed. When he opened his eyes, a smile touched his lips. He looked down at her, resisted the urge to stroke her hair.

"Pretty please?" Her bottom lip jutted in a pout.

He averted his eyes, returning his gaze to the fire. "…My mother," he started. His voice was suddenly hoarse, his throat dry. "She sang Christmas lullabies."

"What was she like?" she whispered.

"She was…" The memories were distant. Fragments of old dreams that he'd been forbidden by Zero, and by Jellal, to remember. "Beautiful."

"Did she have curly hair, too?" She asked this while batting at his braid.

"No." The crackle of firewood. "It was black and white like mine, but straight. Fa—" he cleared his throat when the word stuck. "My father had curly hair."

"Were they nice parents, like my mommy? Or were they mean like that mean guy who kidnapped me?" She scowled at the memory.

"Nice." He looked back down at her. "Like your mother."

"Oh…" There was a twinge of pain in her eyes. A longing. Christmas was over. Dreamer was not home.

He caught his error, and was desperately trying to scramble up a distraction when she continued on, as if unhindered in the first place.

"Did you have brothers and sisters?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. He didn't answer.

"It's okay if you were alone like me," she said, trying to be helpful. "I never had a brother or sister! I don't want one anyways, because when they grow up, they just want to take all your clothes! Oh, but, I guess I could have a brother or sister one day and it wouldn't be bad, like if you and Mommy had a baby, then I guess I could probably like it, but not if it pukes on my favorite dress or cries a lot so I can't hear myself sing. Are you guys gonna have babies? Are you gonna get married? If you get married, can me and Romeo be the flower girls? I was just wondering 'cuz—"

"I had a sister."

The firewood continued to crackle, a real-time example of the wood of time fracturing, breaking, burning.

"What was her name?"

He knew it, but the word was heavy on his tongue. He hadn't spoken it since then. Not once. Erik knew only from listening to his innermost thoughts. It was as if the name held power that he was afraid of.

"It was…" he let out a slow breath. "Juliet."

"Wow, that's pretty. Was she your big sister or little sister?"

"Little." He cleared his throat once more. "She was a baby."

"Macbeth…?" She furrowed her brows. "Did your family die?"

"Syllest…" Eight years old, asking about death. All because—

"Like my real mom?" she clarified. "And my mean dad? Did they die?"

He looked down at her. He nodded.

"Your baby sister, too?"

"…Yes."

"Oh." She turned her head. Gazed back at the burning wood. "Macbeth…?"

"Mm?" he rested his hand gently on her bundled up form.

"Can you sing me a lullaby…? Like your mom sang to you?"

"Would that make your Christmas complete?"

"Yes."

He considered her request. After a few minutes, he hummed, picking up the memory of a tune. Finally, while they watched the embers pulse in the fireplace…

" _Silent Night. Holy Night._

 _All is calm. All is quiet._

 _'Round the fire the mages sing_

 _Tales of wonder as children listen._

 _Tales of joy and of peace._

 _Tales of joy and of peace_."

It was a song about the thirty-seven children rescued by Saint Nik, all those years ago. If only Juliet had been rescued. If only Christmas wishes really did come true and family members came home. If only…

He thought she'd fallen asleep when he was singing. But, some time afterward, he heard the whisper of her voice.

"I miss Mommy."

He leaned against her. Wrapped his arms around the helpless child.

"…I miss her, too."

"Next Christmas…" she whispered. "We can have Christmas as a family. Me, my mommy, and you, Dad. All of us, together."

"I'd like that."

If only time would be so merciful. If only Christmas miracles really happened. Then, perhaps, they would get to be together next Christmas, and all the Christmases following. Vortex-eyes and key-lime pie and raven hair. Cherry blossoms and snow. Warm bodies tucked under blankets. Laughter. Love.

If only.

But, come next Christmas, Macbeth and Syllest would be far from Magnolia. Far from snow, Christmas wishes, and family. Both captive to the centipede-fear, far from laughter or love. Next Christmas, and the six to follow, would not see the realization of this distant dream.

Time would burn like the logs in the fire. Ashes would scatter, burying only the remnants of beating, hopeful hearts.

…At least, for tonight, there was some peace. Some joy. They found it, father and daughter, cuddled against each other in front of the waning fire. They found it as they fell asleep, after creating a day of memories that would fuel their hope, their love, their determination in the perilous years to come. For tonight, the night of Christmas... they were happy.

 _Merry Christmas._

* * *

 **Leave a review and tell me what you thought! Thank you all for supporting me and this story. :)**


	82. SEQUEL PROLOGUE DEVELOPMENT TIPS Q&A

**Hello Friends! Long time, no see! I know you've all been waiting patiently, following along with the extra content scenes, and waiting for me to publish the sequel to OSD. I'm a few months behind schedule (I had been planning on posting in December), but rest assured that I am hard at work on the next installment of Macbeth and Dreamer's lives. Things have been crazy in my life, from a new job, to a difficult move, and many other tough transitions. Plus, I had a plot lined up for the sequel that I was working on, which fell apart because of overlooked plot holes, so I had to start from scratch. Listen, as an author or artist of any kind, it can be tempting to pump out low quality content as fast as you can, but that's not the kind of creator I strive to be. I want to give you fans the best that I can. You don't deserve any less than that, so even if it meant that I would be pushed back another two months, it was worth it.**

 **To further complicate things, the sequel is set during the Key of the Starry Heavens arc. When I first watched the arc, a couple years ago, I thought it was... meh. Now, after tearing it apart, analyzing it, listening to every forced, poorly written line... There is no other arc in anime that I detest so completely. It's just... so _bad._ You wanna talk about plot holes? **

**I thought about scrapping that entire arc and developing my own adventure, but there are a couple of reasons why I didn't go in that direction. First, I always wanted to loosely follow the story line of the actual Fairy Tail universe. And yes, I know that The Key arc wasn't originally canon, but Mashima later accepted it as such. Secondly... the villains of that arc are none other than our beloved Seis! I couldn't just throw away one of the only representations of my favorite Fairy Tail characters like that (despite the fact that the characters were poorly represented in the arc). Plus, it was that very arc that gave me the entire idea of Macbeth and Gajeel's bromance.**

 **I'm rambling. The point is, though it was a challenge, I wanted to incorporate elements of Key of the Starry Heavens in my sequel. I wanted to completely rewrite it, and make it a hundred times better than the trash it is in the anime. I think I'm going in a pretty good direction so far, but ultimately, you readers will be the judge of that.**

 **Today, I've decided to give you a sneak peek of the sequel. A synopsis and prologue. I can't give you an approximate timeline before I start publishing the sequel. You know me, I won't start posting until I'm sure I can follow a regular schedule, so that I don't flake on you guys. So, you'll have to be a bit more patient. Hopefully, this taste will reward your patience thus far. Read it, then tell me your thoughts and theories about the sequel!**

 **After the prologue, I'm including a development section, and a call for Q &A! Ask me whatever questions you can think of in the reviews, and I'll answer them in the next EC!**

 **Without further ado, here you have it:**

 _ **Splinters of Time: The Tenrou Team might have miraculously escaped death, but the consequences of the seven-year stasis did not leave them unscathed. For Lucy Heartfilia and Dreamer Cumula, the splinters of time cut as deep as blood. Now, the girls must make sense of a world where fathers die, lovers betray, and children vanish. Can Dreamer endure the threat of the Neo-Oracion Seis, or will the tree of time leave her buried beneath the unforgiving eyes of the ones she left behind?**_

* * *

 _ **X791**_

The desert wind was a whip of fire. The sand, a sea of embers. The dunes were molten ocean waves—and tucked between them was a building, its image distorted by the bending heat. The eastern half was a skeleton of metal beams. The scorching sun glinted on metal, and as a result, the unfinished half of the building gleamed white. Like the bones of a corpse dried by the sun.

A man stood atop a dune a few hundred yards away from the building zone. He wore the navy-blue robes of a priest, with a cape on his shoulders—white with gold trim—which signified his rank within the church. His skin was several shades darker than the sand, and upon his face were black etchings. He stood with his hands behind his back, gaze fixed on the skeletal structure ahead.

"It seems to be coming along nicely, Master Brain," a voice said from behind him. A second man ascended the dune, his boots burrowing into the sand with every step. He wore a gray shirt, and toted with him a purple coat that was too heavy to wear in the desert environment. His silver hair was spiked upright, and glinted synonymously with the dark shade of his sunglasses.

"Yes," the first man agreed. "It will not be long now."

The second man adjusted his glasses. "Aren't you afraid that all of this is a tad… _presumptuous_ , however? We have yet to acquire a single clock piece, after all."

The man called Brain smirked. "I have no doubt that we will soon have all the pieces. Our success was guaranteed the moment my son decided to contribute to our cause."

"Ah yes," the second said. "Midnight, was it? You seem to have the utmost faith in his abilities. I certainly hope he delivers."

"He will." Brain stepped forward, angling his feet against the slope of the sand. He began his descent toward the structure. The other man followed closely behind. "Tell me, Rustyrose. How is our friend?"

Rustyrose didn't answer for a moment, as he struggled to keep pace down the hill. "He is currently in the throes of one of his episodes," he said, when the sand leveled out. He wiped sweat from his brow.

"What is it that plagues him now?" Brain marched on ahead, unfazed by the elements. "Not remorse, I hope."

"Despair," came the reply. Rustyrose switched the arm he was using to hold the oversized coat, as it trapped heat against the left side of his body. "I did confine him, just in case."

At last they reached a pathway that had been anchored to the sand. This too, was under construction.

"Good." A hot wind swept beneath his cape, and it swished in the blaze. "I am counting on you to keep him in check, Rustyrose. Remember that he is crucial to the success of our mission."

Rustyrose smirked, a glint sweeping over his glasses. "Of course. I'm the only one who can, after all."

Their boots thudded on the stone pathway now.

"If I may, Master Brain…" Rustyrose said, after a moment's silence. "Why is it we can't just seal his affliction in the same way you conceal Zero?"

Brain stared straight ahead. He released a sigh, the only indicator he was listening.

"That would at least rid of us the unpredictability," he continued.

"It isn't so simple."

The main entrance doors to the building were now only twenty feet ahead of them. Men in white robes worked diligently, moving bricks and transporting large pieces of glass through the entryway. Brain stopped here, to marvel at the building up close. "You see, Zero was created through the failure of a magical experiment. The circumstances which bred your companion's… _unique_ situation, are quite different. Furthermore, Zero encompasses only one personality trait." He swept his hand out in front of him, then clenched a gloved hand. "Madness." He glanced to his right, where Rustyrose now stood at his side. "Your partner's condition is infinitely wider. Thus, no seal will contain it."

Rustyrose thought about this, as he shook sand from his boots. "But this… _Real Nightmare_ … You're quite sure that will mend him?"

"Yes." Brain outstretched his arms, gesturing toward the grand structure. "I assure you, Rustyrose, by the time we have control of the Infinity Clock, we will have accomplished much more than the healing of one man. We will have forever changed the course of this world. You and your friend will be free from your bounds at last." He slowly lowered his hands. His chest inflated and deflated rapidly with heavy breaths—there was a tremble in his fingertips.

"Yes…" he repeated, quieter now. His voice was low, nearly lost to the heat rising from the ground, threatening to swallow his words. "At last, Midnight. Our dreams will come to fruition. You and I will send this world spiraling into inevitable chaos." A wicked grin spread across his features, and for an instant, his eyes seemed to flash red against the backdrop of dark sand and skin.

"Rustyrose, get the others, including your _paramour_. There is much for us to discuss." He was marching again, through the open doors.

Rustyrose's cheeks burned red, though from embarrassment or sunburn, it wasn't clear. "He's not my…" He took his sunglasses off while his eyes adjusted to the dark. "Never mind. What shall I tell them?"

"Tell them that the Neo Oracion Seis will now enter into Phase Two."

* * *

Hundreds of lit candles littered the stone floor. Their flames danced eerily in sync with the cold drafts blowing through the castle.

Fire. Such a curious thing. Though the flames dance, twist, turn, and flutter—they release no sound. Silent dancers, sometimes adrift in a slow ballet, other times as quick and sharp as the steps in a tango. But always silent.

Though the candles covered most of the floor, the only sound in the entire chamber was the moans of a man in the center of the room. He laid sprawled on a bed, sweat sticking to his clothes and to the sheets. He writhed, clenched uselessly at the air as if seeking to grasp relief, but there was none to be had. His teeth grinded, his chest heaved, and he groaned tormented sounds of pain or fear as he slept. Occasionally, the cries took form.

"Time… chaos… now…"

This man was the archbishop of Zentopia.

Flames are not the only dangerous thing that can loom in silence. They were not alone in the chamber. As their dance illuminated the room with flickering light, something stood in the dark, just out of reach of the dancers' dim arms. Something just as silent, though far more still.

His eyes were closed, breaths slow. He might have been asleep, leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. Or he might have been lost in thought. Either way, his consuming, red eyes remained trapped beneath his eyelids.

That is, until a heavy-handed knock landed on the chamber doors.

He opened his eyes, which seemed to catch a gleaming hand of light. But he didn't move.

"Hey," a muffled voice said through the thick door. "It's me."

The man stood upright. "Come in," he said, his low voice just above a whisper. Far too quiet for any ordinary man to hear from across the room and beyond several inches of solid wood.

The door swung open. Another man entered, then quickly shut the door behind him. He tugged on the lobe of a pointed ear as he listened, beyond the sounds of silence. His eyes found the other man, hidden in shadow. He said nothing, at first. Instead, he thrust his hands in his pockets and turned his gaze to the sleeping man in the center of the room.

"Bet that guy's seen better days," he remarked, with a frown of distaste.

"Of course, he has," said the other. "Even hell would feel like paradise to someone trapped in these nightmares." Finally, he stepped into the light.

His hair was long, the curls pronounced. A white braid drooped over his left shoulder. He wore a simple, gray coat—long and lined inside with white fur. Beneath a buckled choker necklace, was a silver chain sporting a pendant that rested just below the dip of his collarbone. A dream-catcher, shimmering pink, as the light danced on its diamond surface.

"What do you want, Cobra?" he asked, in a low drawl.

"First, can we talk somewhere else?" The other man winced at a particularly loud cry of pain from the archbishop. "I don't know how you can stand listening to that for hours straight."

"You already know," he responded, "that pain is a lullaby to my ears."

"I thought you grew out of that a while ago, Midnight."

The one referred to as Midnight didn't answer. Instead, he turned and walked through another door. His companion knew to follow.

They traversed a hall to another chamber. Here, an unkempt bed recalled the presence of a dual-haired mage, who now took a seat on its edge. Cobra closed the door behind them, then leaned against it, kicking a foot up.

Midnight waited, expectantly.

"I got Crystal's report," Cobra said, wasting no further time with small-talk. "The church in Tulip is down. She's heading to Lilac tomorrow."

"I see." Midnight closed his eyes.

"I gotta say, I'm impressed." Cobra smirked, baring a sharp fang. "I didn't think she could pull all this off by herself. You must be proud."

Midnight's expression didn't change. "Did she say anything else?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, she did." He gave a small chuckle. "She said she's going to party tonight, kiss a few boys, maybe have a beer. And she said there's nothing you can do about it."

Finally, Midnight's cold face flickered with emotion. A hint of a smirk.

"What's so funny? You're not even concerned?"

Midnight pulled his legs onto the bed and crossed them. "No. She knows that if she does any of those things, I'll raze that entire town into nothing but a fine layer of dust."

"Right." Cobra scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You two have the most twisted relationship, you know that?"

Midnight merely shrugged, the corner of his lip still tugged upward in a slight smile. After a moment, his expression shifted back to normal. "Is there anything else?"

"Yeah. Hoteye finally sealed a lead on the clock hand. Angel and Racer are going to track it." He dropped his foot. His boot thudded on the stone.

"Good."

Midnight's eyes remained closed. He sat in silence for several, endless moments.

The messenger hovered by the door. He bit his lip in thought, then unconsciously wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Midnight opened one of his eyes, which flicked up the man's tense body.

"Is there something else you want to tell me?"

"Yeah…" He gritted his teeth. The muscles in his jaw twitched. He closed his eyes as his mind mulled over the thing he'd heard. The rumors. The news. He knew it had to be true, at this point. He'd heard it whispered, declared, pondered on in dozens of households and market streets. There was no denying it.

Still… he released a slow breath, then stood up straight. "Actually, I forgot what I was gonna say. Oh well, I'm sure it wasn't important."

Midnight regarded him suspiciously.

"Anyway," Cobra turned to avoid his vortex gaze. His hand went to the door handle. "I'll let you get back to… _whatever_ you were doing."

"Erik."

His hand paused in mid-turn. He scrunched his eyebrows at the sound of his real name.

"You wouldn't hide something from me, would you?"

Cobra didn't turn to face him. "Do you trust me?"

Midnight stared at the back of his maroon-colored hair. "Yes."

"Then, don't worry about it." He opened the door. "I'll see you later."

Midnight didn't respond. He merely watched as one of his oldest friends slunk away, the thud of his boots sounding in the narrow hallway as he left.

Cobra returned to the archbishop's chamber. He paused only momentarily, to look at the hundreds of candles flickering endlessly in the dark. The flames were silent, by nature, not by choice. Unlike them, he had _chosen_ to be silent.

"Sorry, Macbeth," he muttered, as he left. "It's better this way."

Better the silence—the _dangerous_ silence—than to reveal the knowledge that the Tenrou Island Fairy Tail team was back home. He would rather play with fire than be the one to relay the news…

They're back. They're _all_ back.

The flames kept dancing.

* * *

 **There you have it! Thoughts? Let me know in the reviews! And don't forget to ask any questions you have, about anything from the story to my life, whatever you're curious about, I'll try to answer.  
**

 **Now, this section is for MusicalMarvel16. You asked me for tips about character development! So, I've decided to include a Development Section here:  
**

 **Development Section: Characters**

I've never really given writing advice before! Everything I write here will sort of be my personal experience with character development. Hopefully you'll find it useful. You can take whatever you want from it and expand in your own creative universe. Every writer is different, and you'll have to find what works for you! Character development is a tricky subject for me. I have a bit of an unfair advantage when it comes to characters, because I've taken a couple psychology classes and am a natural intuitive. People are the easiest part of writing for me. I'm going to do my best to give a simplified form of my general thought processes, and make it an easy formula for other aspiring writers.

 **Step 1: Define Your Character**

Simply put, you can't have character development if you don't even know who you're starting with. Before you can do anything with a character, you have to know who that person is. Easier said than done though, amiright? Some people like to use complicated, ten page long character templates where they write everything from their character's height to what spices they like in their chili. While I've had some fun using these same kind of templates in the past, I've found that K.I.S.S. (Keep it simple, stupid) suits me better than this approach. So what if my character's blood type is A Pos? How are they going to react when someone punches them in the face?

Here's my suggestion: Break the personality of your character down into their three most important personality traits. Picture it like playing the Sims. You're inputting their most prominent traits, and those are going to affect how they behave when someone calls their mother a llama at the gym. Seriously, though. Take the three things that absolutely define your character. These three things must always be set in stone. No matter what life experiences your character goes through, no matter how much they change, no matter what you throw at them, these three traits must NEVER change. Even if you have a villain who does a complete 180, his basic traits don't change. If he was an arrogant bad guy, he's gonna be an arrogant good guy.

These three traits will save your life when you're trying to decide if a character is acting OOC or not. If you're wondering whether your character would run from a fight, or face the threat, look at their Golden Trio, there. It says that the character is a genius, shy, and mean. Well, someone who's shy probably won't want to stick around for a fight. But they're also mean, so you could go either way here. Maybe the tie breaker has to be won by the genius trait, and it will come down to whether it's logical to fight or flee. The one thing you cannot do is to have your character loudly declare that he or she will take on an entire army! First of all, that's not shy. And it's not very smart either.

Three Traits.

As fanfiction writers, we get a head start. The original author already decided these traits for us, we just have to recognize them. Here, I'll dissect some Fairy Tail characters to give you a good idea.

 _Natsu: Brave, Clueless, Loyal_

 _Gajeel: Blunt, Childish, Determined_

 _Makarov: Wise, Stern, Daring_

Keep in mind that these are up for debate. Everyone interprets characters slightly differently. You can tell, if you read a lot of fanfiction, that every author has a slightly personalized version of the characters. That's inevitable. Just do your best to make the character fit as closely to the original work as possible. You'll mess up sometimes. I've been called out on being OOC with Gajeel before. And massively chastised by my favorite critic, Svane Vulfbad (if you want writing advice, then go to his page. He's much better than me, I promise) who pointed out that I messed up Mirajane's personality by a LONG SHOT.

Ultimately, this technique will help you keep your character in perspective, and prevent you from falling too far off the in-character wagon.

 _Macbeth: Cruel, Reserved, Childish_

If I had to break Macbeth down into the Golden Trio, I'd choose those three. No matter what happens to him (and trust me, a lot happens), he will always have those traits. Even as a good lil Fairy, he's still drawn to chaos and mischief, he'll still use some _questionable_ means to achieve his goals. He'll always be a bit of a sadist, but now he'll be a sadist who asks for consent! But no matter what I do, I must never make him a soft-hearted, outgoing, mature man. I would be shattering that character into a million little bits that would make Mashima cringe (and probably all of you, too).

 _Dreamer: Kind, Stubborn, Anxious_

 _Syllest: Curious, Stubborn, Bossy_

 _Resmond: Emotionless, Curious, Intelligent_

 _Piper: Blunt, Tempermental, Adaptable_

 _Jezran: Protective, Loving, Calculative_

 _Sange: Perfectionist, Arrogant, Determined  
_

I think this is a good place to start with defining your character.

 **Step 2: Choose the Lesson**

Now that you know who your character is, you have to decide what you want your character to learn. This is the "development" part. Your character must achieve a goal. And in their journey to achieve the goal, to learn the lesson, they will undergo character development. The moment your character learns this lesson, that is the climax of your story.

Many people wrongly assume that the big plot twist is the climax. While it certainly can be, this is not always the case. Sure, the giant action scene might be the catalyst for the character to learn their ultimate lesson, but there are many instances where the character learns their lesson before the final battle, or in the denoument. One Sweet Dream is a great example. You might assume that the climax was when Dreamer faced Resmond and had the revelation that she could defeat him through transfer of emotion. But no, the climax occurs after the battle, on a hospital bed when Macbeth and Dreamer are in one another's arms. At that moment, Macbeth learns his lesson: "Freedom isn't a thing, it's an experience you feel with other people," and Dreamer learns hers: "I am not a savior." We see this moment of realization clearly in their dialogue.

Macbeth: "You are my freedom."

Dreamer: "Youre freedom was inside of you all along, but I'm glad to be at your side."

Macbeth shows that he has found meaning in his relationships with others. Dreamer shows by her humble response to his declaration that she doesn't take the credit for saving him, he saved himself.

Every character has a lesson they are learning. Even your minor characters. The lesson is a simple, one sentence statement about life:

 _Syllest: "Family is who I choose."_

 _Piper: "I deserve to treat people with respect."_

 _Jezran: "I can choose to protect instead of harm."_

 _Resmond: "I can do anything I want."_ (The lesson doesn't have to be a positive one).

 **Step 3: Teach Your Character the Lesson**

So, you know who your character is and you know the lesson they're going to learn. Now, it's up to you to teach it to them. This is the tricky part, the one that takes the most planning. The best advice I can give is to think about your own life and the lives of people you know. Think of a lesson that you had to learn. Maybe you learned that "Blood is not equal to family." Did you come to that conclusion suddenly, or was it a culmination of experiences that led you to the ultimate conclusion?

Maybe, when you were little, your brother framed you for something he did and you got in trouble. Then, maybe your father was abusive. Maybe, when you were a teenager you got in a car accident and none of your family members showed up. Maybe it was a friend and his family who supported you. And maybe the final straw was when your mom and dad got divorced. _Maybe_ , through all of those linked experiences, you learned that the definition of family for you has nothing to do with blood relations. It took a long time and a lot of suffering for you to learn that lesson.

Your characters should endure the same process.

Perhaps you've never been through something quite that intense. Maybe you've never had to learn a really hard lesson like that. That's okay. We can look at this on a simple scale, too. K.I.S.S. or whatever (I actually hate that acronym). Think about one of the classes you've taken. Did you start the class and immediately know all of the material that would be on your final? What would happen if your teacher made you take the final on the first week of school? You'd fail, right? In order to be able to pass, you spend the next few months studying, talking with peers, and doing homework. You fail some assignments, and ace others. You're learning, and learning is a process. Finally, the day comes, and you pass your final! You learned your lesson! It took time and hardship, but you did it!

Characters are the same way. The lesson you're teaching them must be reinforced again and again until your character would realistically learn the lesson you're teaching. This can take time, and that's the crux of it. You cannot force your characters to learn their lessons too soon. Take the time your character needs. I needed 71 chapters to teach Macbeth and Dreamer their lessons. But, those were hard lessons to learn. If I wanted to teach them easier lessons, I could do it in less time. If the lesson I wanted to teach Macbeth was "You are capable of Goodness," I would have ended the fic when he was accepted as a true member of Fairy Tail. But I wanted to go deeper (yay for over-achievers). I wanted to get down into the gritty world of freedom and chains. That's why it took so long. Don't cheat your characters. Don't take any short-cuts. Some of your characters might need to struggle for a very long time.

Just remember that the lesson you're teaching needs to be reinforced many times in your story, by circumstances and by other characters. There was something someone told me many years ago that helped me understand how other's opinions can enforce change in us:

"If one person says your shoes are ugly, you don't believe them. If a second person says your shoes are ugly, your shoes might be ugly. If a third person says your shoes are ugly, you buy new shoes."

It's a process.

And remember that every installment of your story requires a new lesson. For example, in my sequel, Dreamer and Macbeth must learn all new lessons. The climax, again, will occur as these lessons are learned. Your sequel lessons can expand upon the old ones, but they don't have to. In fact, the new lesson can completely contradict what a character learned in the first book. As long as the key personality traits, the Golden Trio, remain the same, you can teach your character any lesson you want. But you have to reinforce the lesson over and over, until it's a believable process.

Keep in mind that this works for any character. Villains included. The life lesson doesn't have to be a morally sound one. Take Resmond for example. When he married Rosy, he thought: "I can get away with this." When he first abused her, he thought: "I can get away with this." Reinforcement. When he killed her, he thought: "I can get away with this." Reinforcement. And the ultimate lesson was: "I can get away with anything I want." The lesson isn't morally correct, or even logically correct because he was proven wrong by Dreamer, but it was the truth he learned through reinforcement, time and again.

Okay, this is getting long. I think you get the point.

Define your character, decide their lesson, teach it to them. They should naturally evolve through this process.

* * *

 **I hope that made sense? And was maybe a little helpful to anyone who bothered to read it? Anyway! Leave me some reviews and let me know your thoughts on the sequel prologue! And ask me questions so we can do a lil Q &A session with the next EC! Thank you, beloved readers. I hope you continue to follow me through the wild story I've created~  
**


End file.
